“I have scarcely left his side. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. Directly dinner was over Mr. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. They seem to spend their time yawning and inspecting their neighbour’s dresses through those hateful glasses.
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