She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. Monsieur Charvill, he has not the means to choose different. “It couldn’t be. Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. “Well?” she said, sitting down again. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. And he, her lawful husband, dared not go to her and console her! Accursed—all of them— Enschede, Ruth, and himself. How long has Miss Charvill been in England?’ ‘Not long, sir.
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