And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint. "Our talking will not bother him. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored.
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