All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators.
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