He had now reached the adjoining house, and, scaling the roof, approached another building, which seemed to be, at least, one story loftier than its neighbours. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. A fever of shame ran through her being. The Idle Apprentice.
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