” “How the hell did you learn to play like that?” “Lots of practice, John. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. I mean that it doesn’t interest you in itself. ” Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his forefinger. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground. Somehow. So, adroitly and patiently, he pulled Ruth apart; that is, he plucked forth a little secret here, another there, until he had quite a substantial array. He threw her on the bed. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. “Julian, I don’t want to get married!” She blinked in 119 disbelief as she saw how hurt he was by her reply. E.
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