"But what, may I ask, arouses the thought?" The doctor was in high good humour. I'll see. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. Stanley, and went into his study. Then Ramage appeared with effusion, and ushered her into his inner apartment. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. The months that followed September spiraled downward. Come along home, Ruth.
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