He was profoundly stirred. He saluted awkwardly. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. " "So I perceive," said Ruth, withdrawing her hands. This done, he unloosed the pulley, and the ponderous machine, which resembled a trough, slowly descended upon the prisoner's breast.
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