“He can’t be more than thirty. Listen, Jack. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. They laughed and talked and stared about them. He did not love Ruth. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss.
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