Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages. Earles strode into the waiting-room. "How are you off there, Shoplatch?" inquired Kneebone. McClintock laughed as he gave the letter to Ruth. I was compelled to run away. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. "You are all right?"—anxiously. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames.
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