There was something markedly and deliberately liberal-minded in his manner in all their encounters. Plote was sleeping or deaf. β He caught her wrist and turned her face towards him. βHe does not come here,β she exclaimed, quickly. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. Once more he begged; but as Ruth only repeated her sharp command, he spun about and raced toward the jungle.
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