“Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. Then suddenly, in front of all those windows, he folded her in his arms and pressed her to him, and kissed her unresisting face. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. She leaned forward and addressed him. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. In the distance a bell clanged, and chattering broke out in the doorway as several nuns came crowding in. Forthwith he presented his card. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers.
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