“Very big steps, moves fast. There were moments when she thought of turning upon this man and talking to him. I don’t think any surroundings could throw a shadow on you. He recognised this object at once. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation. A handy knife, and a good tot of something sharp to clean out the wound. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in. My natural parents both died a very long time ago and I have been on my own for a great deal of my existence. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance.
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