Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. Womanhood is sacred to me. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. "At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged.
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