Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. “She has been to my flat before. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street.
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