She watched as his headlights flooded the driveway and many minutes after his car was gone. She felt her forehead repeatedly break out in a light sweat. Coolly and gingerly, she kissed it as it stood at its hard angle from his body. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. I won't keep you long.
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