Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. The blood will rest on your head. “You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him.
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