As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. “What is the exact force of a motif?” she asked at random. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. "I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice; "and, perhaps, I have one still. I saw her come out from the flat buildings two minutes before we entered it last night. They had been married for well over one hundred years. “If you must go on with it,” said Hetty, “now’s your time. “I have been amusing myself up to now by trying to earn my living,” she replied. “You did not tell me that you were going out, or I would have offered my escort. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
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