He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be. Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery.
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