He stopped before her suddenly. ‘Went to the dogs, did Jarvis, after Mary died. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. I am the cause of his ill-usage. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. Half French. But pathologically, he is still on the edge. ‘Gone!’ he said. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. "Victoria; that's the hotel. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice.
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