The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. "Do you know anything further of Sir Rowland?" he asked. Wood,—"he'll never mend.
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