” “You, then,” he said, “are ‘Alcide. . My profession has hardened me. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me. She raised this with the air of a conspirator unmasking, and displayed a tear-flushed face. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure.
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