She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. When she released him he ran down the beach for a stick which he fetched and laid at her feet. See paragraph 1.
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