They could not go on. ” “Until some one takes pity on me and marries me?” He raised his eyebrows in mild appeal. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. At least, he would always be able to take care of Ruth. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin.
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