"Her blood be upon her own head, then," replied Rowland, sternly. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it.
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