Another door was next opened, and, preceded by the ordinary, with the sacred volume in his hand, the prisoner entered the room. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. She was given a glimpse of his soul. ‘Rather would I die than fall in with such a plan. "Ruth?" Silence for a moment. I thought that you were he. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand.
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