He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. She would not let her move. A sob was strangled in her throat. ” “It presented a large impenetrable back, and went on thinking about something else. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. She bolted awake in the large bed which was awash in a sea of silks, furs, and red curtains. Moments later, the movie began its gory climax, bass vibrating the seats with great bombast. F. . .
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