" "Of what am I accused?" asked Thames, who though a good deal alarmed at first, had now regained his courage. After all, she was a consummate actress. ‘I knew you would be furious. ” “Then I,” she said, “have too much character. I've a shrewd guess where he's taken refuge; but I'll ferret him out. . . But I shall take care of Ruth, work for her and fight for her. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep.
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