“Quite alone, sir. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me. "They say her son's taken at last, and is to be hanged. He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. They put her down, and she leaped at them; she smote a helmet to the ground. Naturally you shout yourself hoarse when she has finished, and feel jolly pleased with yourself. “I’m only arguing against your position of what a woman should be, and trying to get it clear in my own mind. McClintock's astonishment merged into a state of mild hypnosis. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself.
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