Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. Ruth could tell the doctor; she could bare many of her innermost thoughts to that kindly man; but there was an inexplicable reserve before this young man whom she still endued with the melancholy charm of Sydney Carton. I was helpless. "I've done nothing to offend you," persisted Jack. It’s my choice, Lucy. " "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack.
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