” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, and at the top a small pine plantation. You must wait till supper's over.
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