He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been. “Have you never met a suitable wife? What is wrong with getting married and having children as Mike and Shari have done? I should love to think. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. But I am here. ‘Don’t be too sure,’ responded Major Gerald Alderley on a dry note. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. "Jack," continued Thames, addressing Sheppard, who had only just recovered from the blow, and regained his feet, "I don't ask how you came here, nor do I blame your rashness in doing so.
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