Anything that drew attention to her must be avoided. Romance! The romance of passing faces, of wires that carried voices and words to the far ends of the world, of tremendous mechanisms that propelled ships and trains! And, oh the beautiful books! She swiftly knelt upon the floor and once more gathered the books to her heart. “I want to know who you are. Understand me. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead.
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