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“Why should one pretend?” she whispered. “Oh, you can act!” she cried. I do not even know his name. Bring in his comrade," he added, in a whisper to Charcam; "I'll take care of him. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. “Not at all. T. ‘Well, young man,’ he said, ‘we haven’t seen you lately,’ and something about ‘Bateson & Co. Amidst it all, however, there were several light-hearted and laughing groups walking from cell to cell to whom all this misery appeared matter of amusement. I love him!" She was weak and dizzy: from horror as much as from physical exertion. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt.
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