“I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. You fooled me this morning; but I overheard two old maids talking about you and the young man. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. Stanley was throughout enigmatical, with an anxious eye on her husband and Alice.
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