The patient fell into a natural and refreshing sleep. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. "Sir Rowland," he added, savagely, and with somewhat of the look of a bull-dog before he flies at his foe, "if it were my pleasure to do so, I could crush you with a breath. ‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet. “Yes. I couldn’t sit down for a week!” “Oh, how terrible for you.
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