You wanted to play a lone hand. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. ‘This is altogether insupportable!’ She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. Gerald’s temper flared. Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage. She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep. I will be up with my wife and daughter after lunch.
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