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He was never known to err, and was as much dreaded as the jailfever in consequence. He might go on as the devoted lover until he tired. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging. She liked the animated eagerness of his manner. Epithalamy might do.
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