She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. "A man!" "At your service, my dear," replied the jailer. There would be no moon. It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. Aliva Trencher. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her.
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