Its heroes never had daughters, they borrowed other people’s. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. It was painful to want him so much. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. So, let's think no more about it. With some difficulty, they managed to negotiate the passage with their burden and carry him out into the library. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. But though she lied about pretty much everything else, she didn’t lie about that. She appeared to be considering. His head bent down, intent on kissing her underneath the showerhead. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered.
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