There was a flash and a loud report. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. “Do you remember the mountains? Do you remember how we loved one another? How intensely we loved one another! Do you remember the light on things and the glory of things? I’m greedy, I’m greedy! I want children like the mountains and life like the sky. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile.
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