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" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Sebastian, as doctor, was constantly around the sick and the dying. We met dissecting dogfish. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather. She was nestled under his bedspread. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house.
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