"Ah!" he exclaimed, in a tone of anguish. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. 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. ” He said. . ” He shook his head. “I want a vote for myself,” she said. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through. I’d only have to do something about it, and that I can’t. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. “For luck.
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