A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. Your face has flitted out of my watch-fire, and then I have been a haunted man. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. Oh, yes; of Ruth herself he knew much; but the more he mulled over what he knew, the deeper grew his chagrin.
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