He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. The fire still burned brightly. Prudence attacked her chicken wing. She turned her head to each side. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. She was quite the rage, in a small way, you know.
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