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“Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. She tried for her usual confident tone, but only succeeded in sounding gruff, even to her own ears. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. I told him the truth. It’s—Mrs. ” Teddy made some confused noise, a thoracic street row; some remark was assassinated by a rival in his throat and buried hastily under a cough. He would go there. Will you come sensibly, or shall I carry you? You are mine!" Ruth's peculiar education had not vitiated the primitive senses; they were always on guard; and in a moment such as this they rushed instantly to the surface. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. They both listened intently. ] THE RAGGED EDGE BY HAROLD MACGRATH AUTHOR OF DRUMS OF JEOPARDY, ETC.
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