I want my freedom. He was staring at her, openly gaping. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. She had other boyfriends and hung out at Foster’s only bar most of the time. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them.
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