Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her.
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