’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. He was a comforting, humorous old ruffian; but there were few men in the Orient more deeply read in psychology and physiognomy. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch.
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