He first met her when he had caught her smoking behind the Joliet LaudrO-Matic one cool overcast day in late August. Mind you don't stir till supper's over. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. She had told Emile. He saw his father, calling to him from an icy white tunnel, beckoning to him. It plucked shingles from the school building, threatening to shake them all loose one by one like rotting teeth. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. “You found the flat easily?” said Capes in the pause. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. He's neighbourly; he has a jingle for every ache and joy I've had. “I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs.
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