He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. Yet you catch her eye—you can’t seem to escape from it. "I haven't worn anything else in weeks. ’ ‘Oh, is he?’ Gerald said grimly. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. “Which one?” “The one whose life you have been making a burden, who has been all the time shielding her sister. She studied her form in the full length mirror, assessed 69 her body as one would that of a prize calf, trying to see it through his eyes, through the eyes of desire.
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