She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. She found an old drunk wandering the streets. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased. Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. "Ruth?" he called. ‘Leonardo again,’ he growled. It was an easy one to smell early on, Sebastian had taught her: anything reproductive. "Not my king's," returned Wood. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair.
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