She could not help but admit that she liked being smiled at and addressed in the hallways by hordes of friendly faces. They must see the prisoner at the hatch. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. A lucky escape. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. The first Step towards the Ladder VII.
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