She loved her mother Marina more than any other thing in the world and could not bear to speak to her for a fortnight after being told her fate. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. As long as I live here, you stop fucking the children and you stop trying to fuck me. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. . "It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, "that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be. ’ The sharp eyes twinkled. This time they would call it murder.
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