’ ‘Pah! How can it be romantic? That is silly. "Ruth?" he called. The moment he was out in the hall, Ruth sat up hugging and rocking her body in delight. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Murder had become nothing to her. I must break open the door. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful. ” His voice assumed an easy detached tone.
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