Mrs. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. A few more minutes, and she was safe. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it.
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