To tell Ruth anything, it would be necessary to tell her everything; and I cannot and you must not. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. “May I sit beside you?” “It’s a very difficult one,” said her aunt. Part 4 MY DEAR VEE, he wrote. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally.
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