He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. He had been very easy or she had been very lucky. That is what I’ve had on my conscience. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. ” The lights sank, the prelude to the third act was beginning, the music rose and fell in crowded intimations of lovers separated—lovers separated with scars and memories between them, and the curtain went reefing up to display Tristan lying wounded on his couch and the shepherd crouching with his pipe. ” “Yes,” she said, and abruptly she liked him enormously.
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