CHAPTER XVIII. I do not desire to extenuate my guilt—far less to defend it; but I would show you, and such as you —who, happily, are exempted from trials like mine—how much misery has to do with crime. “I must explain to her. Yet he stays. "Then you ought to be thankful to me for the warning. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. But I vowed that Ruth should never suffer the way I did—and do. Mounting the door he had last opened, he placed his hands on the wall above, and quickly drew himself up. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. “Very good,” he said.
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