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“Can you not understand? It is of no use
your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear
shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. Taber's room at once," Ruth
ordered. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. I was
standing near Jack at that awful moment, and beheld the look Wild fixed on him. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor
and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat
slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in
the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with
still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater
than his own.
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This video was uploaded to golfrealestateonline.com on 06-07-2024 03:05:33