” He groaned. “The Beck family has the cooking gene. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. ‘And so?’ she asked. Smith's melody had subsided. "Kiss me. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. It was you, of course, whom he wanted. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it.
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