All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. And no ill-chances. He fancied, indeed, that he beheld a figure spring upon the starling at the moment when the boats came in contact; but, as he could perceive no one near him, he concluded he must have been mistaken. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations. "O Massa Ireton! Massa Wild!" ejaculated Caliban, "Shack Sheppart gone!" "Gone? you black devil!—Gone?" cried Ireton.
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