Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. I never made any effort to touch them; so by and by they learned to light fearlessly on my arms and shoulders.
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