“It is hateful—diabolical!” he exclaimed. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. ‘Eh bien, Eugénie. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. There’s the internal factor as well as the external. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. “But we satisfy one another. I am going to take you entirely at your word. Sheppard!" sighed Winifred, as she contemplated the beautiful wreck before her,—"Poor Mrs. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. "No, I won't leave go!" screamed Mrs.
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