And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. ” “Why not?” she asked quietly. In fine, to marry Ruth (if she would consent) as a punishment for what he had done! To whip his soul so long as he lived, but to let his body go free! To provide for her, to work and dream for her, to be tender and thoughtful and loyal, to shelter and guard her, to become accountable to God for her future. Her lips parted, but no words came. ‘Ah, grandpére. I was—I was a corespondent.
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