I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Your history, your actions, nay, your very thoughts are better known to me than to your spiritual adviser. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. “He tried it. He returned, blue towel in hand. You are very lovely, Ruth. He was so seldom wrong. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside.
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