He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. Her patience was waning fast. The lady grasped it more firmly and turned it upon Hilary. Here he found another strong door, making the fifth he had encountered. \"Carry your books for you?\" He asked. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep.
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