That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. She spoke slowly. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said. They were familiar but more massive. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. I picked up her handkerchief on the floor.
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