“Who did you live with before the Becks? I hear things. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. ’ Gerald grinned. Open the window, Thames, and call for assistance. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. She knew now that he never would. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. The cause of this uproar was soon manifest. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. Her father was right: Ruth must never know.
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