He was like a man beside himself. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. S. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. " "Look at it, then," said Wild, giving him the portfolio.
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