What marriage really meant (aside from the idea of escape), Ruth had not the least conception, no more than a child. That same adventurousness that had already buoyed her through crises that would have overwhelmed any normally feminine girl with shame and horror now became uppermost again. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. I can’t even make myself care. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. They don’t count, and I don’t care.
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