“It was poison—why not?” she answered. She was suddenly grave. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. "What of her?" exclaimed Jack, starting up. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it.
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