The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. “Of course I’m manager for this expedition,” he said, after an interval of self-examination. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. She followed the official back into his room. ” “But I didn’t lose it that way, did I?” She grew hysterical. " So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. "Certainly not," replied Gay.
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