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The Twins of Table Mountain by Bret Harte
page 63 of 163 (38%)

"Nary."

"He hasn't been here, or about the Ferry?"

"Nary time."

"You haven't heard," said Ruth, with a faint attempt at a smile, "if
he's been around here asking after me,--sorter looking me up, you know?"

"Not much," returned the bar-keeper deliberately. "Ez far ez I know
Rand,--that ar brother o' yours,--he's one of yer high-toned chaps ez
doesn't drink, thinks bar-rooms is pizen, and ain't the sort to come
round yer, and sling yarns with me."

Ruth rose; but the hand that he placed upon the table, albeit a powerful
one, trembled so that it was with difficulty he resumed his knapsack.
When he did so, his bent figure, stooping shoulders, and haggard face,
made him appear another man from the one who had sat down. There was a
slight touch of apologetic deference and humility in his manner as he
paid his reckoning, and slowly and hesitatingly began to descend the
steps.

The bar-keeper looked after him thoughtfully. "Well, dog my skin!"
he ejaculated to himself, "ef I hadn't seen that man--that same Ruth
Pinkney--straddle a friend's body in this yer very room, and dare a
whole crowd to come on, I'd swar that he hadn't any grit in him. Thar's
something up!"

But here Ruth reached the last step, and turned again.
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