‘Ah, trying to be the young hero, I take it, which is why he near got hisself killed. She sat with him in the courtyard after serving him 20 spiced wine. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. ’ Mrs Sindlesham abruptly sat up straighter in her chair. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. Ruth could not be told now. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern.
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