So, step by step, and hurt by hurt, Ruth was learning that John Smith was John Smith and nobody else. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. He stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his. If you had lived twenty years ago you would have been called a Young Person, and it would have been your chief duty in life not to know, never to have heard of, and never to understand.
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