" The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. Ramage, by a hundred skilful hints had led her to realize that the problem of her own life was inseparably associated with, and indeed only one special case of, the problems of any woman’s life, and that the problem of a woman’s life is love. He's neighbourly; he has a jingle for every ache and joy I've had.
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