Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. I’ve never had these crying fits before. That’s really our choice now, defy—or futility. He shrieked with agony, and clung with desperate tenacity to the roughened stones. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked.
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