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. “For Heaven’s sake, Dunster, don’t let her out of the carriage, or hansom, or whatever she came in. I would that you were my own. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. ” She said wistfully. Stir a foot, and I strike.
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