"You read it, Ruth. “You should probably wash all of that stuff off of yourself. “‘Alcide’ is very popular. It’s a lake among precipices, and there is a little inn where we can stay, and sit and eat our dinner at a pleasant table that looks upon the lake. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both. He saw Enschede, making the empty sea, alone, alone, forever alone. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call.
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