You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. His shouts for help were answered by roars of mockery and laughter. ’ ‘Don’t count on it. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth.
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