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. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. On the Day he had trumpet-like outbreaks of cordiality, varied by a watchful preoccupation. . What happened? Did you turn me?” “Yes, my love.
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