He did not love Ruth. Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. "I give you all of my genius, and you say—'Get out!' I am some kind of a dog. Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No.
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