The Night-Cellar. It was not that the servants could not, they simply preferred to. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. Manning, her aunt and father, neighbors, customs, traditions, forces. It was only when they came into a square that daylight had a positive quality. Deny me, if you please. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another.
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