She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. He put his free arm around her and held the censer ready; and as Ruth snuggled her cheek against his sleeve, they were, so far as intent, in each other's arms. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. I wanted something alive. He would know the truth then once and for all. “You found the cabochon? After all these years?” He asked, incredulous. I'm ashamed to say that I was too much terrified to scream out—but ran and hid myself. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness.
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