She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. Furious shouting, and the thunder of running feet. "The guv'ner'll be here afore midnight. She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers.
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