But I should certainly want to be rid of Mr. You're Mister Wild's pris'ner, and worse luck to it!" "I don't ask you to liberate me," urged Thames; "but will you convey a message for me?" "Where to, honey?" "To Mr. ’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles.
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