She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. With this view, he suffered him to pass on. So get up, and let's be off. "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection.
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