You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. ‘Here we go again. This niggardliness compelled him to cross and recross streets. " "That, alone, ought to have prevented you from acting as you did, Jack," returned Thames, gravely. 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.
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