He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. She nursed at his neck as he peacefully slumbered through being killed. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. But it's best to be on the safe side. My husband, he is cruel and wicked, and—and entirely undistinguished. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back stairs. It was not a hopeful looking group.
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