Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. Anticipating this, Wild avoided the shot by suddenly, ducking his head. "Never heard of a sing-song girl; never heard of a geisha! Flower of the Lotus: the sing-song girl called her that. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. She glanced into his face. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now. "I have good news for you. “Why not? Isn’t the whole thing a lie? Isn’t her reputation, this husband of hers, the ‘Alcide’ business, isn’t it all a cursed juggle? She hasn’t the right to do it.
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