The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. What he there noticed occasioned a marked change in his demeanour. “For I know that you love Ennison. I understand. He became a little more personal and intimate.
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