‘Do not beg his pardon,’ intervened Melusine quickly, coming between them. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles.
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