" "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. " "They are useless," she returned. "First take the child," cried Darrell, holding up the infant, and clinging to the oar with a dying effort. Talk to her of the new story; divert her; for this day her heart has been twisted sorely. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill.
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