By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. After all, this could never be the black sheep. God would have taken mercy on her baby, seeing that she had already had too much pain and that he had taken her beloved mother. No prisoner except Edgeworth Bess was placed in the same cell with him. Kneebone, his impertinence was copied to the letter by Solomon. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. But I shall take care of Ruth, work for her and fight for her. "I yield to fate.
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