Ray did not pace, he just stood. With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness. Again returning to the main road, he passed through Clapton; and turning off on the left, arrived at the foot of Stamford Hill. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. She became aware of his presence as she had never been aware of any human being in her life before.
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