The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. Take, if you please, your own pistol. "Will he live?" asked Ruth. " "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair. At present the world waits for that writer, and the confused record of the newspapers remains the only resource of the curious.
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