’ ‘Oh, yes I do,’ Martha said, getting up off the bed. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire.
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