He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon. There was a short, red-faced, resolute youth who inherited an authoritative attitude upon bacteriology from his father; a Japanese student of unassuming manners who drew beautifully and had an imperfect knowledge of English; and a dark, unwashed Scotchman with complicated spectacles, who would come every morning as a sort of volunteer supplementary demonstrator, look very closely at her work and her, tell her that her dissections were “fairish,” or “very fairish indeed,” or “high above the normal female standard,” hover as if for some outbreak of passionate gratitude and with admiring retrospects that made the facetted spectacles gleam like diamonds, return to his own place. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner. ’ Gerald sat back in his chair, thinking hard. “I’m being honest with you. I'll see her myself; and that's more than she bargained for, I'll be sworn. ‘Gerald had to change both shirt and breeches.
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