Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties. I'll keep it for your sake. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music.
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