CHAPTER VI. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. I mean that it doesn’t interest you in itself. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions. Along the inner side was a wonderfully arranged series of displayed specimens that Russell himself had prepared. Clothes. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes.
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