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. It was a clear, lovely, October morning. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. " "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily.
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