‘I do not understand you. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. They lived alone, mainly inhabiting the castle’s upper floors. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks.
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