" In the living room Spurlock's glance was constantly drawn toward Ruth; but in fear that she might sense something wrong, he walked over to the piano and struck a few chords. “You are talking like a boy. A wild passion of shame and self-disgust swept over her. He jumped back, cursing. ” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered her onto the flat surface of the picnic bench. Perhaps he truly meant it – perhaps there was a force within him that could withstand the hardships of existing past a mortal lifetime. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it.
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