He could not kiss Ruth. After all, she only LOOKED a woman. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. Something he saw there made him feel for a moment ashamed. This lady is my wife, and I have a right to be here. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. It’s a thing that’s happened to you. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. You are afraid of the warmth in your blood. She watched as his headlights flooded the driveway and many minutes after his car was gone.
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