And he had destroyed all this. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. ‘Jacques, do not die while I am gone. We can’t even protect them from themselves. Pray, walk in. Such ambitions as he had were stereotyped and material. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love.
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