"Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. "I wanted you to know. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. “Forgive you, indeed. " With this, he mounted his steed and rode off. Too late now. ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. Charvill’s fury was burning out. .
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