Trenchard glanced at the document. ” “Right!” he answered. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. " "You're a damn fool, too!" exploded the trader. “Lots of ‘em!” Capes chuckled. I felt somehow I’d hurt you. I hate to see you spoil yourself with guys like me.
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