Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. ‘Didn’t mean it, love. "What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. But I vowed that Ruth should never suffer the way I did—and do. He was caked with dried muck. 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.
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