There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. He made his speech a little elaborately. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. “You are late,” she murmured. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. “That’s not. The manager twisted his moustache. You'd better lose no time. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. You climb by disappointing men.
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