A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. “You could have a talk to Miss Kitty Brett this afternoon, if you liked. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. He hadn't played fair. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. \" \"Not this Saturday, sweetie. He returned, sitting on the floor beside the couch adoring her and stroking her bare arms. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. Ruth went on to explain.
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