With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. She kissed him on the bridge of his nose. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. “John,” she declared, “I must eat or die.
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