Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. ” His voice sounded muffled and heavy, as if he had gone to bed. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. Later in the evening she heard him whistling, poor man! She felt very restless and excited. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. You are a detective?" "Yes.
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