The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in. Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign. God only knows what I have done, or left undone. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer.
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