His assistance came too late. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. " "He couldn't help it, Ruth. ‘What’s more,’ went on Martha, ‘I knew something Mr Charvill didn’t, or he wouldn’t so readily have left it behind him. My opportunities have been immense, and my failure utter.
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