" The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. Don’t ask me how. The world had not passed by but had gone around it in a tremendous half-circle. It presented itself in the likeness of a great, gray, dull world—a brutal, superstitious, confused, and wrong-headed world, that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists.
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