The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. There was, it might be said, a double illumination. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. Ruth did not resent the use of her mind and body in this tale of adventure. She came into the room. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. I know there’s a sort of right in your impatience at the slowness of Progress.
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