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And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. “Now here hath been dawning another blue day; I’m just a poor woman, please take it away. " "Hadn't you better hold a moment's parley with the gentlemen before proceeding to extremities?" suggested Jonathan. Will you come sensibly, or shall I carry you? You are mine!" Ruth's peculiar education had not vitiated the primitive senses; they were always on guard; and in a moment such as this they rushed instantly to the surface. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites.
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