This is altogether insupportable. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. She was always asking questions about her mother and supplying the answers. 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. Both carried packages of books and magazines.
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