He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. It is putting all my dreams out of joint. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses. He’ll never ask because I’m not in with those people, you know? Well, I guess John Diedermayer might have some connection, but, I certainly don’t. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself.
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