‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. The doctor jumped to his feet. “That’s the point. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. She had to think of something fast, or her reaction would start to make believers out of everyone. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, the pink colour coming and going in her cheeks was very delicate and girlish. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. What marriage really meant (aside from the idea of escape), Ruth had not the least conception, no more than a child.
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