"Yes. She had trembled on the verge of such a resolution before, but this time quite definitely she made it. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. It was bleeding again. As he lay on his back, he fancied himself gradually slipping off the platform. They’ll know. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. And Capes was thinking that his wife was a supremely beautiful woman. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security. Daughters were not like sons. They were so good to me.
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