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He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. A young man was playing the banjo. Bought the freedom of a sing-song girl; and all the while you knew you'd have to tote the girl back. ‘And nnever would you have f-found it.
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