"Thank you, sir," said Spurlock, holding out his hand. Mrs. Ruth loved him. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. Business exists for such interruptions. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. This done, Edgeworth Bess, who watched her opportunity, slipped out of the Lodge. You have grown into my life. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. Suddenly all this makes you human. The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments.
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