He felt that he was getting on with her very slowly indeed, but he did not see how he could get on faster. “He says you are frigid, Madame. You must let me take you to things—to meetings and things, to conferences and talks. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. I do, however.
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