He got up brusquely. But to draw the attention of the milice, no, that is not at all desirable. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. This is simply a chapter of coincidences. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar.
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