Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. “I mean REALLY independent. White,” the lady in black satin remarked. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility.
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