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She let Jack go as he passed through the opening. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. Here Marvel, the executioner, who was in attendance, was commanded by Wild to tie his thumbs together, which he did with whipcord so tightly, that the string cut to the bone.
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