Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. ” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. Too much blood has been shed already. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. "Speak plainly. But, uttering a loud cry, he was swept away by the headlong torrent.
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