The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. She struggled against it quite uselessly. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. “Well,” said Capes, at length, “we’ve to go down, Ann Veronica. We'll come back for that by and by, and the dressing-gown.
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