"Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. ” She smiled at him, an understanding smile, but her words defied him.
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