He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. But Jack eluded their grasp. During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. . They’ll know. For Ruth was in love, tenderly and beautifully in love; but she did not know how to express it beyond the fetch and carry phase.
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