Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. Then she called a hansom and drove home. Amidst it all, however, there were several light-hearted and laughing groups walking from cell to cell to whom all this misery appeared matter of amusement.
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