’ Jack Kimble took a deep breath. You're always complaining that you can't keep anybody more than three months. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. Wood hadn't struck me. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. She remembered abruptly that she was really living upon his money. “I’m only arguing against your position of what a woman should be, and trying to get it clear in my own mind. He should never sufficiently be able to regret the return which they had made to her. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. " "But, Lord, man!—don't you ever get lonesome?" "Don't you?" "I'm too busy.
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