Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. Wood's anxiety respecting the fugitive was speedily relieved by hearing another waterman busy himself in preparation for starting; and, shortly after, the dip of a second pair of oars sounded upon the river. And, incidentally, check on that unfortunate young fellow Kimble. I can remove the prisoner at any hour of the night I think fit: and I will remove him. A lucky escape. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. I'm about to leave this country for ever.
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