Ruth was something to study for future copy; she was almost unbelievable. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. ‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you. Jack, whose back was towards it, did not see it; but he heard, from the pitying exclamations of the crowd, that it was in view. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. Lucy's ears were singing. His face was white.
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