” Ennison nodded. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. The whole place had come to life, the magic seeped out of the walls. “He does not come here,” she exclaimed, quickly. "My coat!" Ruth did not move but stared astonishedly at the patient. . . Whether they are loved or unloved has no bearing upon this desire to test their wings, to try this new adventure, to take this leap into the dark. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. So there is no escape.
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