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The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. Ruth came to him directly. “None, I thank you,” he answered. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. But all those empty years!… My heart was hot. Wood. ” She looked at him doubtfully.

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