The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. “For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. ” They stared at each other through a pause, and both faces were flushed and obstinate. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. If I were to marry you now I should feel a dependent being all my life—a sort of parasitical creature without blood or muscle. In the circles into which he had been born, the passing on of land was of vital importance.
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