What a frightened fool he was! If he could not remember her name, it was equally possible that already she had forgotten his. He awoke, strangely content. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. You really ought not to stay here and talk to us.
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