But when Ruth's hand fell gently upon his bony head, he knew that no one in this house would ever offer him a kick. “Kick aht at ‘em!” though, indeed, she went now with Christian meekness, resenting only the thrusting policemen’s hands. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. The streets were full of colour.
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