Her lips were dry and cracked. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. If she delayed a day she would delay two days, if she delayed two days she would delay a week, and after a week things would be adjusted to submission forever. She examined Michelle’s pale face.
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