” He made a little noise in his throat as if something had cried out within him, and for a time they were both too full for speech. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. That suggested delicacy; and yet her young body was strong and vital. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. She opened the door to him herself. “I am sick of it. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. " "There isn't an angel in heaven, Ruth, purer or sweeter than you are. They simply understood there was a greater need to get over the past than to talk about it. Pull yourself together, Annabel! I must have the truth. We’re going in.
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