" As he said this, a slight noise was heard without. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. “I could not have stayed in Paris and waited for news. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. And you see, I don’t turn my back, and I am looking at you and thinking about you from top to toe.
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