" The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. It was a haunted place. "I told you the prison wasn't built that could hold me," cried Jack. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. She moaned as she touched him.
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