The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. Capes was rather a discovery. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. She put her clothes back on, 118 lipstick smeared all over her face. She must weigh her situation. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. “There is my aunt,” she said. What happened? Did you turn me?” “Yes, my love. ] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. "No, I don't. ” She laughed.
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