It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. As the carpenter's gaze wandered over this scene of devastation, his attention was drawn by Mrs. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves. None at all. "Wretch!" she cried, "you shall not force me to your hateful purpose. He just seemed to have no interest, consumed with the hunt or his newfound friend, Sebastianus, who supposedly would enable him to expand his political ties to Rome. It had been her home for hundreds of years. The worst was over now.
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