He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. "It looks as though, we should go together," he said, pulling her toward him. .
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