Brutes! They are the brute still with us! Science some day may teach us a way to do without them. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. “I’ve been thinking—all the afternoon. Kneebone in a conciliatory tone. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. ‘Certainly you must have seen her. The owner was at the door unhooking a few articles of wearing apparel which he had exposed outside for sale. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. "What's the matter with the man?" demanded Wild. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand.
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