‘I am done, Gérard. 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. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. It's always hard work for a rich man's son to stand alone. They were loath to admit to the public that the case would be closed in a few years for sheer lack of forensic evidence. Her patience was waning fast. "You two will have this island by the ears," he said, wiping his eyes. "Oh, easily enough," rejoined the other. ’ ‘For God’s sake,’ protested his junior. Always.
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