His conscience, however, was entirely another affair. “I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. You will only make me hurt you the more. " "Oh, no!" Ruth protested. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. ’ Then memory hit and he stared at his friend.
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