"You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. " This injunction was instantly obeyed. 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. Please don’t let any one know that. Unless they remind him now and then not to. Marry, come up! I'll show him what an injured wife can do. Free! All the fine ecstasy, without the numbing terror. But the offences I have committed are venial in comparison with what I should commit were I to wed your father. "You should be glad to be made an honest woman.
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