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The peculiar appearance of the sky was not without some influence in awakening these terrors. When she looked into their eyes, her despair put her beyond tears. It’s—Mrs. “I think,” she said, “that I would rather not have anything to say about that man. Here you are, young, sound, with a heart that will recover in no time, provided you keep liquor out of it. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand.
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