" She rose. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. The carpenter trembled; for he perceived Rowland's gaze fixed first upon the infant, and then on himself. The world, she discovered, with these matters barred had no particular place for her at all, nothing for her to do, except a functionless existence varied by calls, tennis, selected novels, walks, and dusting in her father’s house. “You let him touch you!” John whispered back. So, step by step, and hurt by hurt, Ruth was learning that John Smith was John Smith and nobody else.
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