And I want you for myself—for my wife. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. Man, if you tell her you love her, and later they took you away to prison, who would sit at the prison gate until your term was up? Ruth. “None, I thank you,” he answered.
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