She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. You could return to civilization and have a good time all the rest of your days. "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth.
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