Jack Sheppard is now wholly in my hands. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. The evil in his eyes towards her was explosive. The moisture from the sea was constant, and she spent countless hours staring at the sea from the west tower, the rise and fall of waves. “Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly. Clergymen were human.
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