It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. He cocked an eyebrow. "You are my prisoner. What do you think of the old tub?" "She's wonderful!" cried Ruth. I must have something in hand. She heard him come in; the light burned on. She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. ‘Still—here? Wasting your—time. He saw the flames burst from the windows, and perhaps in that maddening spectacle suffered torture equivalent to some of the crimes he had committed.
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