Why, there's another party on the stair-head inquiring arter scullers; and, by the mass! they appear in a greater hurry than any on us. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. We'll get those books into your room first. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. ’ He clenched his fists and grew red in the face.
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