And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. But no more of that. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. Naturally it all came out then. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool.
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