"Put about, waterman, for God's sake!" cried Wood, whose humanity got the better of every personal consideration; "some one is overboard. ” She closed her mouth. “You did your best to kill me,” he said. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. “Well,” he said at last slowly, “I’ll pay it. ” He ruminated for a minute. The sing-song girl, seeing Ruth, extended her hands and began to chatter rapidly. "However, I'll refresh your memory. “Very likely,” he answered. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too.
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