He was always forgetting that his tummy was fifty-four years old. "Poor thing!" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, "she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. . Wait a little; rest. .
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