“Lucy, you. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. It was the largest room in the house, which was why it had been given over to the main business of the convent as a house of God. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. The dress was her mother's, and she was wearing it to save a little extra money. But his own ferocity was less now that she was disarmed.
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