Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. “I wonder if there are any good women really. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. Ennison stood by her side. But, perhaps Mr. “I can’t keep away from you. I’ve got nothing to do for a month but think. I believe—I believe that I must risk it.
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