132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. He unhooked it from the front clasp. Mrs. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. " The tone was neutral. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia.
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