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She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Wood, who had merely absented himself to see that a public breakfast, which he had ordered at the Six Bells for all who chose to partake of it, was in readiness. I will arise myself. Damn! I’ve splashed. And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me.
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