His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. “And let us have a talk about this—some other time. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict. ‘You’re speaking the truth. Most of the tables were for those who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with tablecloths and laid for dinner. Wood.
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