I’ve thought that out, and you must make up your mind to it. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. ’ ‘So that was it. “Who on earth did you study violin with?” Michelle jumped in. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. Crocodile Tears.
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