‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration. The blood will rest on your head. “That’s not working so well for you, is it?” She looked at him sheepishly, bringing a Kleenex out of her pocket to wipe away the excess. She was practically destitute of jewellery. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary.
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