If you don’t eat humble-pie now you may live to fare worse later. Mrs. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. “Have you not missed me?” He inquired. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again.
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