Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. “And what will Mr. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. ‘There is little I can do at present. And yet the secondary emotion was one of suspicion. It filled his thoughts for the rest of the day, and became an obsession.
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