"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. She shuddered, adding confidentially, ‘You wouldn’t get me in there now, mind. Oh, yes; of Ruth herself he knew much; but the more he mulled over what he knew, the deeper grew his chagrin. They conversed, or more or less she interviewed him. But he tells them that I am a spy. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. "The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. Only after he had pushed himself completely inside was the friction lessened.
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