"The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. " "Six," he corrected. " "Do you suppose he knew?" "He? Oh, you mean Mr. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. All right! I’m off. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction.
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