Your life is like a funeral March. And then I'll pay off old scores. “Has she ever thought of buying a pair of foam earplugs?” Lucy asked. What marriage really meant (aside from the idea of escape), Ruth had not the least conception, no more than a child. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her.
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