“Where would you like to go? Are you hungry?” “No. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. Perhaps once it had desired some other human being intolerably.
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