Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. He sent me flowers. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. ” “No. I think too much about myself. CHAPTER XVIII. " "I do remember it, Sir," replied Mrs. His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out. But I can't consent to the course you would pursue—at least, not till I've given it due consideration. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears.
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