Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. That’s really our choice now, defy—or futility. But I’m not a slut either, if that’s what you think. By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold.
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