] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. And then—this sudden thrust. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. "Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. Good riddance.
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