Jonathan laughed scornfully. The will to live had returned. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. She threw him his car keys. Melusine, I’ve remembered something that may help you. “The very question, my dear sister,” she said, “tells me that I have succeeded. Not up here, I think. No, not one little bit.
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