Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. By various twistings and turnings, during all which time his pursuers, who were greatly increased in numbers, kept him in view, he reached Gray's-Inn-lane. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals.
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