But I expect him back every minute. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. Ruth obeyed, not willingly, but because there was something hypnotic in the authoritative tone. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue.
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