“And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. But who would pay the ransom? There was no one left in his family. "It's not very likely that a babby of nine months old will save my life, if I'm to be his friend, as you seem to say, Mrs. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. —'They have,' says he. It may be well, therefore, before proceeding farther, to describe it more minutely. “Good God!” he exclaimed.
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