167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. “What have you been doing since our last talk? Still cutting up rabbits and probing into things? I’ve often thought of that talk of ours—often. She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. “My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once. We are very poor, but manage to squeeze a little happiness out of each day. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. It would not be possible otherwise to live in daily contact with this level-eyed, lovely girl without loving her. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. It was still possible the child might be in safety. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. " "You once saw a man die that way?" the manager echoed, his recent puzzlement returning full tide.
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