But, finding the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way. The Storm VII. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered.
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