The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. Smith decidedly the plainest of the two. "Oh, God! would you take him from me?— would you murder him?" "His father's name?—and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. Not even for Ruth could he do such a beastly thing. They were silent and no longer observant, being more or less exhausted by the tedious action of the chairs. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face.
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