’ ‘Dear me. CHAPTER XXVII. “Intolerable idiots!. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. Ruth drank in these intellectual controversies, storing away facts. “I guess I’m not the only one who wonders about your past. C below. You won't have him long. I took the usual way home.
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