He returned the locket without comment. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. Life waits for us. " "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair. She rapped again, louder. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. The girl’s eyes never left his face.
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