It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. She was poor. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. You see, my riddle is solved. They were loath to admit to the public that the case would be closed in a few years for sheer lack of forensic evidence. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently.
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