I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. By and by the tramp of horses' feet was heard slowly ascending Snow Hill, and presently a troop of grenadier guards rode into the area facing Newgate. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea.
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