The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. Things seem to come rather easily. Returning in moments, Mr. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. “Who wouldn’t be for you?” The train began to move. . It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman.
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