He—wanted to marry me. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. ‘C’est ridicule. Can't I make you see?" "But I'm telling you Ruth loves you. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's. Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers. Get the pole out of your ass.
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