So many distresses— so many joys coming at the same time are too much for me. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room. The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape.
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