The night was now profoundly dark. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. ” “That’s the comfort of you. ” Teddy made some confused noise, a thoracic street row; some remark was assassinated by a rival in his throat and buried hastily under a cough. But those days are over—quite over. It was so arranged that Ruth went on duty after breakfast and remained until noon. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably.
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