The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. Fascination. “Yes. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. So, adroitly and patiently, he pulled Ruth apart; that is, he plucked forth a little secret here, another there, until he had quite a substantial array. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action.
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