They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. "Not so;" answered Wild. The old fool’s been working on you through your sister to keep off the stage. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. 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.
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