Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth.
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