"Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. Like a petulant child he snapped. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment. "So I think," replied Kneebone, again applying to the snuff-box, and by that means escaping the angry glance levelled at him by his companion. “I could not have stayed in Paris and waited for news. It is the bottom of the cup, where all the dregs appear to settle.
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