And all to find that picture of Mary Remenham. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. ” “Then perhaps,” she answered, with a new coldness in her tone, “perhaps I really do not care. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals. “Well,” she admitted. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity.
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