He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. He was not a sailor. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. She drew a breath, and sighed it out.
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