Then suddenly the curtain would fall. The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant. Just let him down easy, Lucy. 1.
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