He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. "What is your name?" "Ruth. He had now reached the adjoining house, and, scaling the roof, approached another building, which seemed to be, at least, one story loftier than its neighbours. " "You're a damn fool, too!" exploded the trader. Somebody ought to talk to him, warn him.
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