He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. I made the pies. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. Courtlaw, Mr. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self.
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