"Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. One hour later she had gone back to the mission—without the salt. " Sir Rowland's brow darkened. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. Ruth loved him. I wonder what it was. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road.
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