Not to go to her is wickeder than if I had run away with my friend's wife. He looked from the sword to the dagger with which he had brought her down here, and grimaced. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. He put his free arm around her and held the censer ready; and as Ruth snuggled her cheek against his sleeve, they were, so far as intent, in each other's arms.
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