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Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. The screams of the unfortunate woman had aroused Thames from his slumbers. There is Lady Arlingford’s reception to-night, ten till twelve, and the Hatton House ball, marked with a cross, sir, important.
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This video was uploaded to jandlonmark.org on 30-06-2024 07:59:32
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