She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely. That's the way she strikes me. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. "Ali Baba, in a blue-serge coat!… God-forsaken fool!" CHAPTER XIII One day Ruth caught the patient's eyes following her about; but there was no question in the gaze, no interest; so she pretended not to notice.
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