She had never understood how much knowledge had been kept from her because she was a woman and even began to doubt the methods of the Church, something she never would have dared before. She must kill this man, or kill herself. Mr. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. The storm burst upon them in its fury. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. Here you are, young, sound, with a heart that will recover in no time, provided you keep liquor out of it. But before he could say anything, the vehicle rolled to a halt. With this air in our blood, this sunlight soaking us. “Thank you—and good-bye. "A miserly old woman.
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