She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. " "Then the sooner I'm off the better," cried Wood; "what's to pay, David?" "Don't affront me, Owen, by asking such a question," returned the landlord; "hadn't you better stop and finish the bottle?" "Not a drop more," replied Wood. CHAPTER IV.
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