Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. " "I am not, by Heaven," returned the knight, solemnly. Then before she could say a word to arrest him he was at her side. CHAPTER XXVII.
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