She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. She must not tell Martha about Gerald. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. I found it on the beach, just sitting there nestled inside a piece of driftwood.
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