“They ought to have been lopped in the spring. “I have made no arrangements as yet— none at all. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. "No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. When they made love, he seemed to shift into the realm of possessiveness.
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