She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. He put his free arm around her and held the censer ready; and as Ruth snuggled her cheek against his sleeve, they were, so far as intent, in each other's arms. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger.
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