"I wonder," said Ruth. It was as much accident as anything, but she had killed him. You know, I’ve done no work at all this afternoon. ’ ‘Who, Joan, who? Of whom do you speak?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. She offers me no explanation, permits me absolutely no hope.
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