13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. “It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over —and my toasted scones are delicious. I don’t care! I’m glad I did. Living’s just material.
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