Poor Ruth: for a father, a madman; for a husband—a thief! Spurlock rocked his body slightly. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. "Let me see," replied Wood; "exactly twelve years ago last November. 8 or 1.
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