For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. As the day wore on, the crowds diminished,—many who would not submit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified,—and at five o'clock, only two strangers, Mr. . Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. I don’t care what else there is in the world. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. She pulled the trigger.
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