She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. ‘You’re speaking the truth. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes.
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