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A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. “Life is upsetting enough, without the novels taking a share,” said Mr. I suppose that shocks one’s ideas. You may perceive harmony, proportion, rhythm, intensely. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. "Oh God! how fearfully my father is avenged!" "True," replied Jack, sternly; "but we have our uncle to avenge. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour of the patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold.
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