"He called me a wanton, Hoddy. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. Be silent, I say, if you value his safety. "He will live," answered Ruth. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. Determined, however, not be taken with life, he held on. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice.
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