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Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. After all, that was life. . "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. She helped him take it off. Her pulses began to race. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them.
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