. "Too late, master," replied the landlord of the Trumpeter, in a surly tone, for he did not much like the appearance of his customer; "just shut up shop. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. The man looked hard at him.
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