text_original: Claude Rutherford was of no more account to her. The thing that had happened was something worse than drifting apart. Gradually and imperceptibly the distance between them had widened, until she had begun to ask herself if she had ever loved him.
text_transcription: CLAUDE RUTHERFORD WAS OF NO MORE ACCOUNT TO HER THE THING THAT HAD HAPPENED WAS SOMETHING WORSE THAN DRIFTING APART GRADUALLY AND IMPERCEPTIBLY THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM HAD WIDENED UNTIL SHE HAD BEGUN TO ASK HERSELF IF SHE HAD EVER LOVED HIM
phonemes: klˈɔːd ɹˈʌðɚfɚd wʌz ʌv nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ ɐkˈaʊnt tə hɜː. ðə θˈɪŋ ðæt hæd hˈæpənd wʌz sˈʌmθɪŋ wˈɜːs ðɐn dɹˈɪftɪŋ ɐpˈɑːɹt. ɡɹˈædʒuːəli ænd ɪmpɚsˈɛptᵻbli ðə dˈɪstəns bᵻtwˌiːn ðˌɛm hæd wˈaɪdənd, ʌntˈɪl ʃiː hæd bɪɡˈʌn tʊ ˈæsk hɜːsˈɛlf ɪf ʃiː hæd ˈɛvɚ lˈʌvd hˌɪm.