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Ruth with Rollo as her guide explored the island. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. Wood required little pressing. Ill-drawn, without method or sense of proportion, you have put wonderful things on to canvas, have drawn them out of yourself, notwithstanding your mechanical inefficiency. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. ’ ‘Your groom? What for?’ ‘Get him to wait outside. I think you’re wrong. That’s my opinion, if you ask me.
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