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He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. As a dog eats grass. " "It was her own fault," observed Blueskin, moodily. I can't invent; the thing won't come. It is true that I do not love Ruth; but I swear to you, before the God of my fathers, that she shall never know it!" "I'll be getting along. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. Manning’s letter.
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