Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. "By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, "if you don't take your hande off my peard, I'll sthrangle you.
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