Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. The coachman answered by a surly grunt, and, plying his whip with redoubled zeal, shaped his course down Dyot Street; traversed that part of Holborn, which is now called Broad Street, and where two ancient alms-houses were, then, standing in the middle of that great thoroughfare, exactly opposite the opening of Compston Street; and, diving under a wide gateway on the left, soon reached a more open space, surrounded by mean habitations, coach-houses and stables, called Kendrick Yard, at the further end of which Saint Giles's round-house was situated. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor. "Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. I know faces. “How I am to earn enough sous for my dinner to-morrow—or failing that, what I can sell. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s.
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