] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. ‘Again?’ Another simple parry. Your second turn is not over, is it?” She laughed a little hardly. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. You are yet a child; and though you have strayed from the right path, a stronger hand than your own has led you thence. The trip took a full day. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate.
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