“I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things. And son of a pig,’ she grunted, baring her teeth. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. Here, without a glimpse of daylight; visited by no one except Austin at stated intervals, who neither answered a question nor addressed a word to him; fed upon the worst diet, literally mouldy bread and ditch-water; surrounded by stone walls; with a flagged floor for his pillow, and without so much as a blanket to protect him from the death-like cold that pierced his frame,—Jack's stout heart was subdued, and he fell into the deepest dejection, ardently longing for the time when even a violent death should terminate his sufferings. "I dare not, Rowland," she answered. “Not at all. ” “May I be prepared?” Anna asked.
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