He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. He pressed the long shapely hand warmly in his. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. Half after six. “Are you free tomorrow? Should I call?” He asked. It rather astonished him.
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