The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. “Yes, John. " "Nonsense!" cried Wood; "while there's life there's hope. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images.
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