Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. We wore invisible chains and invisible blinkers. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. ’ The listening soldiers began to snigger behind their hands.
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