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Good-bye, Anna!” Annabel sprang up. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Into this hole in the wall and out of it the native stream flowed from sunrise to sunset, when the stream mysteriously ceased. I tell you, if you do not help me this instant, you will find that your major he will very likely shoot you.
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