He felt the first sting of the whip. He was all alone, too. The poor child! What frightful things she must have seen on that island of hers! The noise of crashing glass caused a diversion; and Ruth turned gratefully toward the sound. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell.
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