Her father was right: Ruth must never know. Even the children jeer. " So saying, he left the room. And to wish not is useless, because you have told me from when I was a little girl. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Ruth?" "Why the devil not? Why do you suppose she married you if she didn't love you? While you read I watched her face. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. ‘Yes, miss. " "Murdered!" ejaculated Winifred. "Your gratitude will vanish with your danger. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. ” “You love—Anna?” she exclaimed. But, no. I'll call for you after lunch.
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