’ ‘That depends, that does,’ said Trodger guardedly. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. Something in her voice and manner conveyed an effect of unwonted gravity to him. . “Oh, you can act!” she cried. "No. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. So the charge was dismissed. CHAPTER XI. " "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand.
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