The white cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault. Perhaps she would have to charge this man and appear in a police-court next day. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. But a man is a mixed creature.
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