She has already forgotten it. On this side of the canal she has no place to go. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. She had the dowry she needed for the lawyers were working to give her Remenham House. " "They always act like that after drink," said Ruth, casually.
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