Chapter Eleven Melusine’s limbs nearly gave way beneath her. “The white unaggressive woman who corrects and nurses and serves, and is worshipped and betrayed—the martyr-queen of men, the white mother. At the sound of the door Ann Veronica uncovered a tearless face, and with one swift movement assumed a conversational attitude. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand.
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