The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. Ruth was something to study for future copy; she was almost unbelievable. Her stifled misery had betrayed her. "We must keep still. He held her eyes. ” He smiled, and she felt love for him in that moment as the smile lit up his ebony eyes, eyes whose blackness seemed unfathomable. The door to the library burst open. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger.
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