I—well, I lost my temper. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. ’ ‘Pottiswick, you mean, miss?’ ‘Yes, yes. . ’ ‘She once more,’ came in disgust from the girl on the bed. Even as she watched, the sweat of weakness began to form on his forehead and under the nether lip. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not.
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