The chair was torture. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. Besides, he might hear things. You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from. ” Anna glanced up. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs.
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