A terrible spectacle was presented to the young man's gaze:—the floor deluged with blood—the mangled and lifeless body of Mrs. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. He was also aware that all his arguments would shatter themselves against her resolutions. He taught her about crowds, which men were the evilest, how to locate and dispose society’s garbage. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. “I’ll try to stop by. CHAPTER XII.
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