As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row. ” “Did I?” she said. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips. The fever came. He would give The Tigress a triple coat of paint, and take these two on a long cruise, wherever they wanted to go—Roundhead and Seraph, the blunderbus and the flaming angel.
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