That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. The crowd began to separate as it fell into the theater. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. I’ll give you, say, thirty-five guineas a week clear of expenses, and half of anything you earn above the two turns a night. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. She tried for her usual confident tone, but only succeeded in sounding gruff, even to her own ears.
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