"Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon.
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