The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it. ’ ‘Compel me? You do not know me, monsieur. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard.
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