That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. The freezing water reached her chin and she felt the heat of her body dispersing, creating a disappearing patch of warmth as her limbs froze. But if you do not leave this room I must. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call.
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