So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. The lights rolled over, and were extinguished. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. ‘Like a vision she were. “Not a bit of it. The key is in my trousers. Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. We can’t be lovers in the ordinary sense, but we can be great and intimate friends.
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