"He is dying?" whispered Ruth. But the rise of the chest was quite perceptible now. I must not let you go again. Evidently her foresight has saved me a funeral. "Granted it were as you say, Jack," said Wild;—"and I sha'n't take the trouble to contradict you—the estates would be yours hereafter. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers.
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