The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. ’ I said. I’ve got no feminine class feeling. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident.
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