No means were neglected to accomplish this end. The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. And the way he and the other men looked at her! The desire was plain on their faces, so many noblemen reduced to their simplest elements! They looked at her sideways, they looked at her backside, scanning her blue eyes and even looking right into her face. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. Then they rode off at speed. Covered with houses, from one end to the other, this reverend and picturesque structure presented the appearance of a street across the Thames.
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