No— no, it must never be. "Mother, I come to you. Capes sat down in the armchair beside her. “Yes,” she said, very faintly. Why am I here—thirty years of loneliness? Because I know women, the good and the bad; and because I could not have the good, I would not take the bad. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all.
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