John introduced the tall boy. Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench. “Martin, I don’t know what to say. ” She slipped on her cloak and stepped into the hansom with him. “Hola Marteen!” She exclaimed cheerfully. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. He inspected the formidable array of rifles and at length walked over to the register.
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