!" "I understand," interrupted McClintock. There's a friend of Sir James—a young man, an engraver of masquerade tickets and caricatures,—his name I believe is Hogarth. His hand rested heavily and cruelly upon Ruth's shoulder. She wondered abjectly whether he intended to rape her before she was dead. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. Jack was almost afraid of speaking; but at length he summoned courage to call out "Mother!" "Who's there?" asked a faint voice from the bed.
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