Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder. She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. He wondered if, after all, McClintock wasn't nearest the truth, that Ruth was one of those unfortunate yet innocent women who make havoc with the hearts of men. He resumed his listening. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. She exited solemnly, retrieving and carrying Michelle’s unconscious figure into the forest like a reluctant bridegroom. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. S.
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