"And yet, he has been spared thus long; perhaps with a wise purpose," rejoined Thames. E. His hand rested heavily and cruelly upon Ruth's shoulder. Ah! what's that?" he exclaimed, as some one brushed hastily past him. And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. After all, this could never be the black sheep. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo.
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