Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. "I suppose he'll be on his feet any day now. He turned round toward her and found her looking at him and standing very still. Buck up. Her husband was drinking in the tavern with the other guests. "That's not an easy question to answer," rejoined Blueskin. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination. I’ve never met any one like you. Pardon what I have said, Madam.
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