The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. " "Aye," said McClintock, in a tone so peculiar that it sent Spurlock's glance to his plate. “Bother!” and decided that this was not so, and would not look to right or left again. And now— I suppose I should be considered too old. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow.
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