" He then hurried Darrell down another short flight of steps, and entered a small chamber at the back of the house. If you'd read your husband's dying speech, you'd know that he laid his death at Jonathan's door,—and with reason too, as I can testify. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. The children made us slaves, and the men took advantage of it. ‘I’ve had enough of this. I’m sorry. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery.
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