CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. “His stipend forbade it,” she said, and seemed to fall into a train of thought. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. ‘But this is altogether a chance of the luckiest.
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