“Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. She smiled at the sight of him, and thereat his radiation increased. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees.
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