She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. We thought of starting in half an hour’s time, and trying for a theatre somewhere on the way. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. The mode of destruction makes no difference. “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare. He’s out in Phoenix last I heard. ‘Oh, mon dieu. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere.
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