Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. His subconscious sensed the unnaturalness of it and recoiled. "It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses.
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