" The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk.
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