Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. His glance came up again and met hers. G'night, kids. Let me keep you from that man’s clutches. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.
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