’ ‘But he’s a major of militia, miss. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. There’s something about you, a little flavor of Will, I suppose, that makes one feel—good luck about you and success. Say I’m out, away, anything!” “I am sorry, sir,” the man answered, “but she had sent away her hansom before I answered the bell. With delicate touch he rescued all that was possible of them, and made a careful little parcel. I'll be wanting my sixteen thousand.
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