CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. If you had taken your degree, for example. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. “You don’t know him, Anna,” she said with a little shudder, “or you would not talk like that. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. Could you pull over? She asked. . “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked.
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