Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. " She departed reluctantly. She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. "You are my prisoner.
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