We’ll have some buttered toast. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. He stepped in with a heavy foreboding of calamity. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men.
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