Surely it was a dream. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. “In Paris. Love … to take her in his arms and to comfort her: and then to add to her cup of bitterness the knowledge that her husband was a thief! For himself he did not care; God could continue to grind and pulverize him; but to add another grain to the evil he had already wrought upon Ruth was unthinkable. ‘Did it indeed?’ ‘I should think he’s guessed, don’t you?’ ‘Without any doubt at all.
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