“You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. . "I want you for the job I spoke of a short time ago, Nab," he said. " "What made him buy that sing-song girl?" Regarding this, Ruth had ideas of her own, but she wanted the doctor's point of view.
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