So Ruth found that for a while her eyes were free. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. It was an impulse. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. What's all this about, anyhow? You. Now the doctor had the "feel" that somewhere ahead lay danger. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. Confound this slavery of sex! I am a man! I will get this under if I am killed in doing it!” She scowled into the cold blacknesses about her. She threw her arms around Rollo's neck and laid her cheek upon the flea-bitten head.
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