She took up a book and threw it down again. He just walked in a few minutes ago. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had. . I should have known at a glance if it was. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. . When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. “I’m not the Devil. . You are much more like what I was then. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch.
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