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With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. I leaned over and looked at him—he was quite still. And now, a fair exchange, Sir. Muffling up his face, Jack turned away; but he had not proceeded many steps when he heard a man reading aloud an account of his escapes from a newspaper. This whole affair is truly my fault. Ruth?" "Why the devil not? Why do you suppose she married you if she didn't love you? While you read I watched her face. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him.
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