Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. And Capes was thinking that his wife was a supremely beautiful woman. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. gutenberg.
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