He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. I—I hurt myself. " Again Ruth nodded. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. She still could not muster the strength to leave.
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