Montressor’s guests were. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. A fortnight passed, then a month. " "Ay, ay," cried the jailers, laughing. Do you live here?" "Not exactly," answered the carpenter. It was the first—and the last! At this juncture, the handle of the door was tried, and the voice of Mr. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. I'm burning to get to work.
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