’ ‘That is not your affair. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. Even now I do not understand. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. He opened his eyes, protestingly, and beheld the realization of his dream. Unless they remind him now and then not to. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. " "I can't.
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