It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. I have an appetite which I dare not increase. Mr. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman.
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