Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. “Here goes,” he said. "Mac, did you ever run across a missioner by the name of Enschede?" "Enschede?" McClintock stared at the ceiling. As she raised it, its lower portion fell apart into two baggy crimson masses. " "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life.
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