Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. “I knew Mr. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. "Surely," she said, after a pause, "you don't attach any importance to what my mother has just said. People running, screaming, hiding. .
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