But it was otherwise with the carpenter. “That’s what you’re going to wear. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. Only promise me to amend—to quit your vile companions—and I will forgive you—will bless you. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject. He did make her perceive something of the acute, tormenting desire for her that had arisen in him and possessed him.
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