They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. Hill lost a little of his truculency. She kissed him on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. The last observation, however, caught the attention of the carpenter's wife. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room.
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