Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. But all those empty years!… My heart was hot. "Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room. 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. At any rate, it would be good to hear him saying the sort of things he did—perhaps now she would grasp them better—with this world-shaking secret brandishing itself about inside her head within a yard of him. “It was the night you left Paris.
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