“My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. I knew it. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. “No, he wouldn’t come here of all places—just now. Shortly Ruth and Spurlock took the way home. He began shoveling dirt over the bodies. She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. And then came the vile experience of being forced and borne along the street to the police-station. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. She knew blood was rushing to his face and other places as well.
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