Ruth, having decided a course for herself—that of renunciation—and having the strength to keep it, met these advances in precisely the mood they were offered. Imbecile. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. An electric light flashed out from the wall. He was instantly overpowered, and stretched upon the ground. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. Hill would have followed her, but Mrs. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. The imbecile.
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