“I can’t endure it,” she said. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers. By 12:30 a. ’ She struggled. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant.
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