"You are," replied Kneebone. I hoped for a family like the Becks and I waded through the system until I got them, so maybe life isn’t so damn hopeless after all. "Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. You did not marry her because you loved her; you did not marry because she might have had money; you did not marry her out of gratitude; you did not marry her because you had to. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep.
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