It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. ‘If you did not want me to talk of it,’ she told him with characteristic insouciance, ‘you should not have mentioned the matter to me. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. He jumped back, cursing. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. I’m right again now.
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