She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. ” Lucy appeared and appraised him briefly, nonchalantly. Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's. There is no poison that would affect her. “Too greasy for me. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. The theme was a masquerade. " "A word," cried the boy, as the janizary was preparing to obey his master's orders. I believe—I believe that I must risk it.
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