Nothing. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. . ” “Go ahead. ” She laughed. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. " "No; it is only—what shall I say?—troubled. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. It made her hungry. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. He was caked with dried muck. Quite trying of him not to be there when he is wanted.
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