“Here goes,” he said. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. Montressor’s guests. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. Too skilled to advertise their presence by a show of arms and men. “While we were minding the children they stole our rights and liberties. “We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage.
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