And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. Sheppard, sinking backwards upon the pallet. Why am I here—thirty years of loneliness? Because I know women, the good and the bad; and because I could not have the good, I would not take the bad. Her efforts were vain.
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