ToC Mrs. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. “I wrote it for you. All at once he saw a way out of the threatening doldrums. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. I’ll try to stay as long as I can.
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