"They say her son's taken at last, and is to be hanged. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. The perception of him flooded her being. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. To make Ruth pay for the whole shot! To wash away his sin by crucifying her: that was precisely what he had set about.
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