“I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. "He will live," answered Ruth. CHAPTER XXXI. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force.
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