So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. There must be ways of getting rid of him. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own. "Won't be under an obligation. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. Not since she had discovered it had Ruth touched or opened the mission Bible; but to-night (the same upon which the wonderful manuscripts started on their long and circuitous voyage to America) she was inexplicably drawn to it. “But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. The crash was tremendous.
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