They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. Then she saw him. Jackson, gallantly.
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