“Put her in the trunk. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. "Precisely. ’ ‘Damn you, answer me!’ Her eyes flashed. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. I didn't mean it. ” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug.
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