“Once or twice. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. But he can't have his eyes always about him, or he'd have been with us this morning at the Mint, eh, Mr.
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