Then the girl was heading past the inn and Roding marched down to confront her. ” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me. I mystify you; I can see that. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. They used to marry us off at seventeen, rush us into things before we had time to protest. It wouldn’t be you. She broke a cobblestone over his head and he was out.
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