“There ought to be some means of getting at him,” he said. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. Habits and tastes are no longer the same. So, step by step, and hurt by hurt, Ruth was learning that John Smith was John Smith and nobody else. He was a stranger.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxOC44My40NCAtIDAyLTA3LTIwMjQgMDI6NDE6NTIgLSAxMzk3Mzk0Mjk3
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