"He will live," answered Ruth. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. "The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. Jonathan smiled contemptuously. ‘I do not mind to pray, no. One is always familiar with the business of one’s neighbours. It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up. The girl’s gaze met his in interested inquiry. ’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen.
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