But as she got out of the train at Morningside Park Station she had a shock. She felt draggled and insulted beyond redemption. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. It was not the type of household where one could come and go at all hours, for this she was glad. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse.
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