Ruth, having decided a course for herself—that of renunciation—and having the strength to keep it, met these advances in precisely the mood they were offered. “You!” she exclaimed. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. He was a little embarrassed. In this state of knowledge you will be horribly, irrevocably, alone. Compared to most of America, you’re rich. Indeed, he told me nothing at all.
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