This at once thrilled her and worried her. “Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. . She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. With a strong tendency to satire, but without a particle of malice or ill-nature in its display. She was shifting, moving back. Now what I want you to feel is this.
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