Oh, yes; of Ruth herself he knew much; but the more he mulled over what he knew, the deeper grew his chagrin. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. 'He's a good fellow, and 'twill all end well'. Interrogation takes many forms, you know, Lucy.
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