"I was going to die, Hoddy!" she whispered. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. On his arrival at Dollis Hill, Mr. I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan. A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood.
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