ToC Mrs. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. I just like you, Mary, and we’ve had a lot of fun. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side.
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