All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. Fatigued by his previous exertions, and incumbered by his fetters, he was by no means—though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot—a match for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while. “You decline to help us in any way, then,” he said. She laid her hand upon his arm.
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