‘I trust you were not altogether disgusted when I kissed you. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. “Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. “I’ve gotta go. Maggot. I have suffered too much from your treachery.
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