But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. I’ve made up my mind. ” Anna moved softly to the window, and threw up the sash. ” For a moment Mr. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. Later on I could scarcely have forgiven you. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries.
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