The owner was at the door unhooking a few articles of wearing apparel which he had exposed outside for sale. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Never mind. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. They simply understood there was a greater need to get over the past than to talk about it. While you live in my house you must follow my ideas. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie.
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