He had only to recall this fact (which he did in each crisis) to erect a barrier she could not go around or over. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. Ruth loved him. Wood hadn't struck me. The moment she entered the room and he rose, she felt that she was immediately consigned to the circle of strangers; and it emptied her heart of its joy and filled it with diffidence. Murder had become nothing to her. Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker.
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