Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. " Jonathan raised his bludgeon, but controlled himself by a powerful effort. “John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything. . ’ She released the pistol which lay in her lap and gestured expressively with her hands.
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