While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. “I do not suppose he will be home till late. A ball from Wild's pistol passed through his heart, and a volley of musketry poured from the guards lodged several balls in the yet breathing body of his leader. Taking this for encouragement, her suitor proceeded still more extravagantly. .
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