" "Yes, yer hon'r," replied the chairman, taking the note. The Times slipped from his fingers. Toys! Delicate trifles! A sex of invalids. ‘Alors, pig!’ she cried and lunged in quarte. Well, I don’t think that’s fair. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul.
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