A girl—at my age—is grown-up. “Sure, I guess so. But that's his American education. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. . Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. It was her distinctive test of an emotional state, its interference with a kindly normal digestion. You’ll end there one day, mark my words. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. But I vowed that Ruth should never suffer the way I did—and do. An inarticulate instinct which now found expression. She surveyed accommodation that seemed at first merely austere, and became more and more manifestly inadequate as the moments fled by.
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