He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. “Your home is very. Obey my orders, and you've nothing to fear. To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals. ” “But your dinner!” she protested.
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