Her hair was washed for her also. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. She resumed her on guard position, and glaring steadily at him, waited again. There would be no mercy in this man. “But—your people!” she gasped. "What good would it do you to destroy me? For I have courage to kill myself.
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