When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. "No; I don't think I'd laugh. "You play?" asked McClintock, who was sorting the rolls. " The clock tinkled ten. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression.
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