Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. I leaned over and looked at him—he was quite still. "Let us fly from this frightful place. " "Devil take the key!" ejaculated Wood. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones.
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