’ ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ Gerald uttered in a rueful tone. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. it’s open. "Don't ask me about it now. 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.
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