" "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence. Look at me. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears.
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