“You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. One wants helpers and protectors—and clean water. Norris. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was.
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