She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. She kicked him in the shin, trying to knock him off his feet. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. ” “And why shouldn’t you?” “I felt that sort of thing couldn’t go on. "You are a physician; you know the vagaries of men in liquor.
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