He had said so. At length the manager arrived; and together he and Ruth succeeded in getting some of the aromatic spirits of ammonia down the patient's throat. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. “A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!. " The girl's blood ran warmly for a minute. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield.
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