” He fell back in his chair with an expression of tremendous desolation. He used to call it his fire-escape—ha! ha! I've often used the ladder for my own convenience, but I never expected to turn it to such good account. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. He backed away from her. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. I would speak with you. But go thither at once, I beseech you, before he has time to remove them. “Allow me.
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