Mrs. Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals. Oh, to face facts! Gods! what a world it might be if people faced facts! Understanding! Understanding! There is no other salvation. And the food! She and Marina had done most of the cooking at home. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her.
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