The sound of her flying feet brought Gerald leaping for the door. There was the motor accident, too. ” Inwardly, she laughed at the idea of him trying to beat on her, flailing, his arms akimbo. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. “I believe so. But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged. Gerald frowned. He hesitated for a moment and then he followed her. “Steady on!” he cried. But she doesn’t and won’t divorce me. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before.
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