There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. "Wretch!" she cried, "you shall not force me to your hateful purpose. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair.
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