But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. , like to forget all about it—even their names. He lit a cigarette and loitered about. " The Wastrel tried to reach Ruth's lips. . When he returned, it was always the same. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. She put a stool for him at a little distance from her own, and after he had seen the day’s work he hesitated, and then plunged into a resumption of their discussion about beauty.
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