Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura. Ramage, by a hundred skilful hints had led her to realize that the problem of her own life was inseparably associated with, and indeed only one special case of, the problems of any woman’s life, and that the problem of a woman’s life is love. "I had to give in to him. ‘Kill him? Oh. ‘I can manage now. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. “It was my sister Anna. Stanley, at the door.
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