‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. " "At all events, let me send her away, my dear," supplicated the carpenter, anxious to avert the impending storm. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. I’ve never seen her quite so sure of herself. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. And all the talk of the Miniver people and the Widgett people seemed always to be like a ship in adverse weather on the lee shore of love.
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