Later, she understood his reasons; and it had now become habit. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. I shall quit this roof to-morrow. I HAD to. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. I love my husband. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion.
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