She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. You have been going out every morning, and coming home late—tired out—too tired to come down to dinner. “I do mean that,” she declared. Again, he would ask a few questions, and Ruth would answer them. Ennison stood by her side. “I have not quarrelled with her. Teddy overtook her, a little out of breath, his innocent face flushed, his straw-colored hair disordered. “It is not that. "The doctor and I agreed to give you a chance—for her sake.
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