She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. He did not love Ruth. The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. The winters were bitter here, they could have just as easily been frozen off. “Unless you have an appointment, which you haven’t,” he said, “you’ll only waste your time here.
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This video was uploaded to twincitieshomes.info on 19-09-2024 08:18:15
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