‘But you do not understand, mon ami. Yet she took with her an uneasy consciousness that in this affair might lie the germs of future trouble. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn. She had black hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them subtle and fine. "Can't you see? I can't hurt her, if … if she cares! I can't tell her I'm a madman as well as a thief!… What a fool! What a fool!" A thief.
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