” Lucy said, marveling at the intricate cockpit of a model helicopter. "What the devil makes you out so late? And what has happened to you, man, eh?—you seem in a queer plight. I’ve never had a homemade Thanksgiving meal like that. He waited. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige. “My hand! This isn’t the place.
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