Surely it was a dream. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. Love … to take her in his arms and to comfort her: and then to add to her cup of bitterness the knowledge that her husband was a thief! For himself he did not care; God could continue to grind and pulverize him; but to add another grain to the evil he had already wrought upon Ruth was unthinkable. She raided their settlements in shifts, staggering her kills from tribe to tribe, undiscriminating of their petty politics. He stepped back further. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. Her eyes were wide and bright. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. You cannot draw.
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