"Mr. Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura. ‘I’ve never found a woman who did not drive me into a frenzy of boredom. Ann Veronica looked up at him and found him regarding her with eyes that were almost woebegone, and into which, indeed, he was trying to throw much more expression than they could carry. ‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. It drives one mad at times. “They seem to come to you as naturally as disappointment—to other people. “You have even her name.
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