My only love is for my poor lost son. That any human being could conceive and execute such a thing! A Roundhead, here in these prosaic times!—and mad as a hatter! Trying the rôle of St. Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night.
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