“So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. The curtains which she had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. ‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. Don’t ask me how. Why, Nab, you shake as if you'd got an ague?" he added, turning to the Jew, whose teeth chattered audibly.
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