I shall count it a privilege. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. He had already shown the covering envelope and its instructions to Ruth, and she had ignored or misunderstood the warning. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. The room in which this interview took place had a sordid and miserable look. Do you know, I am beginning to believe that we only exist nowadays by the tolerance of these millionaire tradesmen.
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