Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. "Disparity of rank is ever productive of unhappiness in the married state. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. "I'll find you out. "I forgive him his disobedience. It simply doesn’t count. "Couldn't you speak to him?" "What?—and be insulted for my trouble? No, thank you!" "That is it. ‘Not in the open street.
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