"Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Trenchard. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. 23 She had always considered herself a simple wool maker’s daughter, but she began to realize that by marrying Gianfrancesco she had unwittingly gained entrance to a separate world. But he only went home again to Paddington. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels.
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