There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. . " "Never!" cried Mrs. '—'They can't,' says I. like rabies. And taking the keys, he departed on the errand. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. I didn't expect you home before that hour, Sir. "Your sympathy is being wasted. “No man can realize,” she said, “what that pit can be. She repeated phrases of Mrs.
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