Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. "I suppose I must have been senseless for some time; for, on coming to myself, I found this gash in my head, and the ground covered with blood. " The phrase was new, but Ruth nodded understandingly. She shook them off of one foot. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. Unless we can get some optimism into him, he'll probably start this all over again when he gets on his feet.
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