” He digested her statement as part threat and part promise. ‘She’s gone. “What did it matter?” she cried. Ireton will do no such thing," replied the head-turnkey. The charm of innocence breathes around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon. She was writhing to get her hands loose and found herself gasping with passionate violence, “It’s damnable!—damnable!” to the manifest disgust of the fatherly policeman on her right. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort.
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