‘No! Let me alone!’ ‘It is not safe!’ ‘That is entirely my affair, and not your affair in the least,’ she told him haughtily. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. At last—I told a story. The Jew got in first. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. She glanced into his face. This year—I’ve got it badly. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. ” “The difficulties on my own side I can deal with,” he answered. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. It was the grand nursery of vice. The flicker of an eyelash might betray his presence.
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