It is true that I do not love Ruth; but I swear to you, before the God of my fathers, that she shall never know it!" "I'll be getting along. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. Beautiful sculptures of sugar and almond paste decorated the long tables, delicate replicas of flowers and miniature animals, even a small Palazzo sculpted from cakes graced the table.
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