Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. If he keeps his word, I'll keep mine. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. "I have never been out of this horrible dungeon since we last met," he said; "though how long ago that is, I scarcely know. Her voice shook, her eyes were very soft and melting. He must not in any way call their attention to it. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her.
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