Its very calmness was frightful. The sing-song girl, seeing Ruth, extended her hands and began to chatter rapidly. A few bricks, dislodged probably by his last descent, came clattering down the chimney, and as it was perfectly dark, gave him the notion that some one was endeavouring to force an entrance into the room. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you.
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