’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. Knew something was up. . ” She replied. He was evidently nervous, and very anxious to be impressive; his projecting eyes sought to dominate. It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it.
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