She touched it, and her gaze lifted. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant.
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