Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. . The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. \"Why weren't you there?\" She asked Mike. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. ’ ‘No, I wouldn’t have believed you.
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