" "Hold your tongue, sirrah," rejoined Shotbolt, not over-pleased by the remark, "and mind what I tell you. \"I'll have to call and tell Cathy. She had never thought of him at all in that way before. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. I’ll be waiting for you outside. Such ambitions as he had were stereotyped and material.
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