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] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. In the midst of the holy place, which he had formerly profaned, lay the body of his unfortunate mother, and he could not help looking upon her untimely end as the retributive vengeance of Heaven for the crime he had committed. Your mother, for instance, couldn’t. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. "I half suspect this is a highwayman," thought the Jew; "he's so ready with his cash. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her.
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