All alone; and nobody cared whether he lived or died. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. Melusine got to her feet and, tucking her shoulder under his arm on the uninjured side, put her arm about him to hold his waist, and thus contrived to take most of his weight. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. I was compelled to run away.
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