She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. Her sister had told him that it was true. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears. Fritz flailed against his mother wildly, crying generous tears. For Ruth was in love, tenderly and beautifully in love; but she did not know how to express it beyond the fetch and carry phase. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. Well, one must hope, that was all. But, this sad affair disposed of, I will not rest till I have avenged my murdered parents. Too easily roused emotions and too little passion. “Limp,” he answered.
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