She thought me— filthy. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. ‘I can argue with him very well indeed. But I will never—never return. Wood having disposed of the brandy, and pronounced himself much better, hurried close to the fire-side, and informed his friend in a few words of the inhospitable treatment he had experienced from the gentlemen of the Mint; whereupon Mr.
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