‘Parbleu, I hope that I do not have many more times to come in this way to the house,’ she muttered fretfully. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. “Is Miss Stanley coming up with us?” “I go second,” she said, “and change at Wimbledon.
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