I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them. That boy—blind as a bat! Why, he hadn't seen the Woman until to-night! From the first chord of the Grieg concerto to the finale of the Chopin ballade, Ruth had sat tensely on the edge of her chair. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors.
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