My work will be all sufficient. But when Ruth's hand fell gently upon his bony head, he knew that no one in this house would ever offer him a kick. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. He flew to the window, and would have passed his sword through the thief-taker's body, if the latter had not quickly interposed the person of Mrs. “Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. “Well, no,” she answered. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered.
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