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At last—I told a story. Surely she could ignore him. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. The problem had returned, made gigantic by the possibility of Ruth's love. She went about the familiar home with a clearer and clearer sense of inevitable conclusions. Mrs. . "Aliva, your child perished with its father. That was the only sound he heard. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. ” “I hope,” he answered, looking at her in some surprise, “that we shall have many more such to think about.
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