She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. . I want to boast myself. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. ’ A peal of delighted laughter greeted this threat. “Yes.
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