His glance came up again and met hers. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. “I’ll get a towel. " CHAPTER XVIII. . He looked exactly as she had dreamed him, handsome, rigidly dressed in a black suit, his hair still half gray, his eyes green and flashing like a cat’s. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant.
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