" The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. She placed the freezer back on top of Ray Plote's old hiding place, now his permanent resting place. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. Manning, and glanced round hastily for further horticultural points of interest in secluded corners. So I made haste and recovered. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer.
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