The man lingered. “Please stop, cabman,” she ordered. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. And when I have steeped him to the lips in vice and depravity; when I have led him to the commission of every crime; when there is neither retreat nor advance for him; when he has plundered his benefactor, and broken the heart of his mother—then—but not till then, I will consign him to the fate to which I consigned his father. “He dissembles,” he said. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. And, if I'd my own way with the Secretary of State, he never should. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. Laugh on the wrong side of your mouth, now.
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