” He rose from his chair, and walked restlessly up and down the room. In fine, to marry Ruth (if she would consent) as a punishment for what he had done! To whip his soul so long as he lived, but to let his body go free! To provide for her, to work and dream for her, to be tender and thoughtful and loyal, to shelter and guard her, to become accountable to God for her future. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. Snatching-up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened. “What ought you to do?” “I’ve hunted up all sorts of things. Very good. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites.
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