And then you can go home and think things over before we talk again. 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. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through. "I am not to be deceived.
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