Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. Presently he resumed: “I believe I must be in love. ’ ‘People are silly. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. Their faces had bite marks that were hers. He seated himself before it. And in the Avenue she had an encounter with Ramage. It was cheating, pitiful cheating. His blood would be sweet with it. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. Ruth met him in the hall as he was following his family into the dining room. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox.
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