As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, pervert?” “Yes sir. “You are coming right out into life—facing it all. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue.
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