"Who's there?" cried Rachel. ” She said. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. He embraced her, kissing her cheek, then her neck. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. Immediately he grasped the fact that there was drama here, probably the old drama of the fugitive. He rolled onto his belly, freeing himself from her hands, pushing her away. To prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights.
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