"What will you do?" asked Thames. I pray you, Gérard, do not fail me. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. She found pieces of it on the blacktop near the green dumpster, amazingly small pieces considering the fabric’s original heft. “For Heaven’s sake, no,” she answered quickly.
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