She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. The door to the room in question was closed. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. ‘Rather would I die than fall in with such a plan. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. Laying these carefully aside, he restored the drawer to its place. It seemed to emanate from the back of the house. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins.
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