While this was taking place, another and more serious interruption occurred. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. We’ll have some buttered toast. " "Ay, ay," cried the jailers, laughing. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. ‘Help yourself, Hilary. Left to Capting Roding, as he told me hisself, you’d be in prison this moment.
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