’ ‘Certainly he is not a friend,’ Melusine agreed, ‘but he has gone, after all. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. And then I came here. Luck.
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