After all, why should I care what strangers think?" Ruth asked with sudden heat. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. “But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. He drew a little breath of relief. Never did I need a rescue so much. I shall never come back.
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