“We can be alone?” She inquired. “Can you come out tonight?” “Um, sure, I guess. " "En-shad-ay. The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. You see, I’m selfish. ” She pointed to the envelope still resting upon the mantelpiece.
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