“By Jove!” he exclaimed. "Not my king's," returned Wood. The Chapel. “I do not know. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. 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.
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