“Have you heard things?” The tears stood in her eyes. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. They were silent for a time. She turned them down and gently placed the violin back in its red fake fur lined chamber. ’ Gerald noted the mixture of respect and apprehension in the glance he received from the boy. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you. ’ Trodger eyed her with suspicion. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force.
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