Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. Poor Ruth: for a father, a madman; for a husband—a thief! Spurlock rocked his body slightly. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. She crushed the letter in her hand.
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