Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. "Your wife?" "His lawful wife," said Ruth, with fine dignity. To perdition with them all. And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. " "But I was intoxicated!" "So was the man you just fought in this room.
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