Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. But recently he had asked God to pile it all on him; and God had added this, with a fresh portion for Ruth. "'T is he!" he mentally ejaculated. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. "May come!—it will come!—it shall come!" cried the carpenter, shaking his hand menacingly at him.
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