He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. He sucked at her neck, biting her hard, leaving red marks that disappeared as soon as he made them. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself.
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