‘Whereas my need was very great indeed. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. They both listened intently. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. " "What's the matter, Ruth?" asked Spurlock, anxiously.
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