Burn your palette and your easel. Part 7 Then one day a little thing happened that clothed itself in significance. Unless they remind him now and then not to. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. I cannot let you go. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. The prospect of the gallows would never deter me from taking to the road, if I were so inclined.
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