It doesn’t seem to matter. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. Then there came briskly along the path towards her, an Englishman. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. Determined, however, not be taken with life, he held on. " Noticing the draggled condition Jack was in, he then fetched him a bucket of water, with which Jack cleansed himself as well as he could, and thanking the honest smith, who would take nothing for his trouble, left the shop.
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