“For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. " With this, she burst into tears, and sank with her face upon his shoulder. Not since she had discovered it had Ruth touched or opened the mission Bible; but to-night (the same upon which the wonderful manuscripts started on their long and circuitous voyage to America) she was inexplicably drawn to it. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. But the young man with the orange tie remained in his place, disputing whether the body had not something or other which he called its legitimate claims.
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