” “Of course,” he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, “I could go away even now. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. \" She was never hungry for human food. Let us search it. ’ ‘You’re going to break into the house? You’re mad. "Why do you laugh?" he asked.
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