And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. "I began to fear, from his having quitted the old place, that some misfortune must have befallen him. They put her down, and she leaped at them; she smote a helmet to the ground. The Jacobite. . ‘Quite wrong, monsieur.
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