A few more minutes, and she was safe. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. "Where did I hear that before?" "Perhaps that first day, in the water-clock tower. “In a sense—yes. Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit. I felt somehow I’d hurt you. I speak no harm of her.
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