That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. ’ ‘You’re incorrigible,’ scolded Hilary, beginning to follow. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. But you belong to me—and I want you. “So, how’d it go?” Lucy sighed.
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