“I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. 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 regarded the young man coldly. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. "Let us hope that, like her who 'loved much,' her sins are forgiven her.
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