What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. They are horrible. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. \"Are you aware that every girl in Princeton Hills would kill for a chance at him? I think it's simple. I've an idea it'll be that long before the chap gets up. "You have said," pursued the widow, "that she, who has once erred, is irreclaimable. The shouts of indignation—the frightful yells now raised baffle description. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. ” He took a quick step forward. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. It has become a part of the order of my life.
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