They simply understood there was a greater need to get over the past than to talk about it. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. She is a woman chosen in youth for her beauty and her intelligence. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. He moaned in excitement as his lips wrapped around the peak of her right breast. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms.
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