gutenberg. Louis the Fourteenth yet lived, and expectations were, therefore, indulged of assistance from France. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. Anna leaned forward, watching the people in the streets. ‘Again you seek to interfere in my affairs?’ ‘I did warn you I had every intention of doing so,’ said Gerald. He turned. Without preamble, in a voice of extreme exasperation, he demanded, ‘Now what the devil’s to do? What in God’s name do you mean by sending Gerald such a ridiculous letter? Never read anything half as crazy. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. Altogether different. Lost ground must be regained.
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