I keep it for my own drinking," he added in a lower tone. In a momentary fury she seized and tore in pieces the study which remained upon the easel. "Ay, robbed him," reiterated Jonathan. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. But what can we do? Here am I, fixed to respectability and this laboratory; you’re living at home.
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