‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully. " "Sir," said the chief turnkey, indignantly. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. "Anything that concerns Ruth is of interest to me. In this hour its colossal selfishness never occurred to him. She had felt very uncomfortable around him, grotesque.
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