How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. “For better or worse. I don’t think I shall ever care for this bonnet again. “It was perhaps my fault. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. “An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money.
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