"Tom," continued Kneebone, calling to the shop-boy, "don't go home. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. “I can’t believe it. But Miss Stanley took no notice of these things. Spit of your mother. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Because every mistake you make, for every new mishap, Joe, I take a finger. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought.
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