You called yourself a murderess. But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. I was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything.
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