‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. The music throbbed into the warnings that preceded the king’s irruption. " "Hum!" exclaimed Jonathan. "What's become of Ruth?" "Gone to her room. We were only—les autres. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. ‘I am perfectly devoted to him, as well he knows. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor.
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