"Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. . Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. This will be safer than cutting his throat on shore. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror.
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