He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. "I wonder," said Ruth. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments.
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