If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime. She must weigh her situation. Her eyes were wide open with amazement. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. I love you—with all my heart and soul.
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