She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. ’ He glanced at the captain. In fine, to marry Ruth (if she would consent) as a punishment for what he had done! To whip his soul so long as he lived, but to let his body go free! To provide for her, to work and dream for her, to be tender and thoughtful and loyal, to shelter and guard her, to become accountable to God for her future. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks. “Too greasy for me. “If you wish,” he said, “I will go there in the morning and see what can be done for him.
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