" The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. " "What for?" demanded the turnkey. The man in me would like to break every bone in your body, but the physician understands that you don't actually realize what you have done. These thoughts, however, came to a broken end. This time, there was no doubt, she did not sleep. Fifty sent home. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. It shall be the bludgeon.
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