At least, he would always be able to take care of Ruth. Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision. "But I dread the effect your departure may have upon your poor mother. ‘Gerald, this is a nun’s habit. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo.
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