A vague desire to justify himself ruffled her father. . But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. "You can generally understand that language. "Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. “You remind me of a little blue stone I had once.
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