265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon. Not very long, if you want to get well. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair. Can’t ask the gent to go abroad and condone a bigamy. Deep silences came between them.
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