I don’t know why that should be so acutely humiliating. But I know very well that that word will never be spoken. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. "I tell 'ee what, master, if you're more fortinate nor I am, and get ashore, give old saltwater your fare. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. He was nearly wincing. Without a struggle he could give up his flesh and blood like that! "I can now give myself to God utterly; no human emotion will ever be shuttling in between.
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