The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. "Iss, Massa.
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