Horrible details recurred to her. "I give you all of my genius, and you say—'Get out!' I am some kind of a dog. " "Thames!" "You seem to doubt my love," he continued,—"you seem to think that change of circumstances may produce some change in my affections. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. Fast and Loose. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. And her kind of love forgives everything and anything but infidelity. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. .
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