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She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. There is no other way. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it. We’re the hysterical animal, Mr. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. 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.
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