Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. Usually it was fish sticks and reheated noodles. The summons was instantly answered by a shop-boy. "Your wife?" "His lawful wife," said Ruth, with fine dignity. Well, one must hope, that was all. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. In the sixth center row sat an unexpected guest, his Classical Greek features stark in the yellow half light.
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