As Mrs. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. Beneath that tree let us lie. ’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. Something namelessly abhorrent in the eyes of those men…! She knew what arms were for—to fold and embrace and to hold one tightly; but why men wished to kiss women was still a profound mystery. She decided to go on, after a momentary halt.
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