She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. ’ He held his hands out of the way, surrendering his chest for her assault. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. 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. You sent back my Christmas checks. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him.
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