He laughed. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. He was in the house with his mother. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. But I know a little place where we’ll get a little quiet talk. Fortescue, with a bow.
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