“You could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” He asked with a sardonic grin on his face. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. “Sure. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul.
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