I can’t love you. The afternoon was her own; but from eight until midnight she sat beside the patient. “Now, there, there. . We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. She would just walk out of the house and go. A few seasons went by where he initiated her into the disgusting rituals of killing and eating human beings, a dark time where she pined for a rescuer who never arrived. ‘Say it. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment.
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