She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. "Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. He smiled at Ruth as she turned away from the bed, smiled with both his mouth and eyes; and she knew that here would be a man of heart as well as of science. "Ay, indeed! And who may that be?" inquired his wife. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. ’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading. "I'm armed; you are not. ‘It is the life I know. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. It’s an instinct.
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