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The problem had returned, made gigantic by the possibility of Ruth's love. She could not say who, not yet. ‘You could have fetched me home. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. Proper enough now, when he could not help himself, but the habit would be formed; and when he was strong again it would become the normal role, hers to give and his to receive. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. “I do not think so.
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