And then she would find work. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. A dreamy sense of content crept over him. No, don’t interrupt me. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night.
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