"There won't be much left for you," he said. She had never let off a pistol in her life. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. Will you come sensibly, or shall I carry you? You are mine!" Ruth's peculiar education had not vitiated the primitive senses; they were always on guard; and in a moment such as this they rushed instantly to the surface. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. He rolled on top of her, pinning her with his arms and forming a tented cage. But it is that I have a very bad temper, you understand.
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