Perhaps it was loneliness. Her hand came up and she laced her fingers with his. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. She touched it, and her gaze lifted. The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. She knew, too, she must not hesitate. He was all alone, too.
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