None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. Smith had never seen anything like it. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. The money will last longer, and—it won’t bother you. Then came the great day. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. ” He nodded twice, with his eyes on the fire, as though that was a formal statement.
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