“Put her in the trunk. In truth, she had been quite glad to lose the argument about remaining while the bullet was dug out of Jack’s side. . ’ The core of hurt rose up, tearing at her insides. Wood fancied he recognised. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. Still, it was true about men. "Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. ‘Which presupposes that she needs to hide at all. . That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen. .
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