"He is dying?" whispered Ruth. ” “Did I?” she said. Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. The confirmed drunkard's mouth at length sets itself peculiarly; it becomes the mark by which thoughtful men know him. . Then, though full of confidence, he half doubted his power of accomplishing his designs. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly.
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