What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. ” Ann Veronica responded with conviction: “I wish so, too. ” She turned and looked at him. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. "I'm glad to find I'm right. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged.
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