She twisted to meet him and folded into his embrace. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. Although she had said a great deal when she heard about the shooting that had left poor Jack so badly injured. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. Greece was a different place. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. He saw the expression on the girl's face and understood what it signified, that it was the reflected pattern of his own. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. She was discussing one of those modern advanced plays with a remarkable, with an extraordinary, confidence. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended.
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