No further responsibility whatever. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder. I wish they would just get it over with. She attended to that, and then dismissed it as unimportant. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him.
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