The doctor turned quickly and made for the door, which he opened and shut gently because he was assured that Ruth was listening across the hall for any sign of violence. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents. Is there anything you want?" She laid her hand on his forehead, and found it without fever. They'll be back soon enough—or not at all. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. ‘You’ve cause to be grateful to Gerald, then.
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