Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. I said I knew he disliked and distrusted you and your work—that you shared all Russell’s opinions: he hates Russell beyond measure—and that we couldn’t possibly face a conventional marriage. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face.
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