] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. She had never seen so much food in her life as she saw at her own wedding feast. ” “I wish you good luck,” she answered. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. “Married already,” he said, with his mouth full.
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