To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. You're alone, too, child. Adieu!" And, snatching a hasty kiss, he darted after Jack. "Utterly," reiterated Jack, gloomily,—"as regards all I hold dear. ” “I don’t believe it,” he answered hoarsely. Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder. “What he had was altogether insufficient. “Quite right,” she said.
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