You’re the only person I’ve really given good, straight, unselfish thought to. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. Distress, deep-rooted, and age old. After all, why should I care what strangers think?" Ruth asked with sudden heat.
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