" "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. Like the Valades, I imagine. I secured the dog after he had wounded me. I've often seen them storming the Carnegie Hall stage. A florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly. The area in front of the jail was completely filled. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. She did not answer him, as she did not know what to say. He handed Ruth a letter.
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