"Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. "Ah!" cried Wild, laying down his pen and looking up with a smile of satisfaction. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. Then, her body still tense with the atoms of anger, she sat down upon the edge of the bed and rocked from side to side. Just go about with him. ‘Jacques?’ she called. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. Her family are solid West End people, Kensington people.
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