The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. "Keep off, you accursed jade!" roared Jonathan, "—off, I say, or—" And he struck her a violent blow with his clenched hand. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter.
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