” He frowned heavily. The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. It wasn’t. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. Both started. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it.
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