” It was a long, meandering talk, stupid, shameful, and unavoidable. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. ” She caressed his cheek seductively with her left palm and he closed his eyes in dreamy anticipation. Once before—but that had been different. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. He only laughed his defiance.
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