I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well. The shouts, yells, and groans which they uttered, and which were echoed by the concourse in the rear, were perfectly frightful. They heard voices inside but stood for a full thirty seconds looking at each other. Always as black and bitter as gall.
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