From time to time, however, he was baffled. Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. Ruth loved him. Marvel, then, took two iron weights, each of a hundred pounds, and placed them in the press. He seemed happy with her, finding her proper and seemly. "Take me, then," replied the widow. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame.
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