F. If you can imagine it, I survived it. Oh, yes; of Ruth herself he knew much; but the more he mulled over what he knew, the deeper grew his chagrin. Wily little devil she is. Last week. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. The other kicked over the traces a bit, made rather a hit with her singing at some of those French places, and went the pace in a mild, ladylike sort of way. "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly.
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