He did not love Ruth. “Tut, tut!” he said. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. She still could not muster the strength to leave. Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. Then she went in and up-stairs, hesitated on the landing, and finally, a little breathless and with an air of great dignity, opened the door and walked into Ann Veronica’s room. He embraced her fully.
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