" "No," said Ruth, pulling back. So she said: “I won’t come home. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. He was certain that those lips of hers had never known the natural and pardonable simper of youth.
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