Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. You do not know him. She approached a soft-looking bespectacled girl she had seen once in the halls and noticed for her haunted look. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused.
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