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] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige. "Your mother is dead," interposed Wild, scowling. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. I must provide for my safety.
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