His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. “I should like to understand you,” he said. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out. Spurling," rejoined Ireton; "we can taste the rum when he returns.
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