" With this, he appeared to pluck up his courage, and stepped forward more boldly. Gracious, there’s the gong. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Only my father he is also of a disposition extremely stupide. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room. It was instantly burst open, when the horrible stench that issued from it convinced them that it must be a receptacle for the murdered victims of the thief-taker.
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