A discreet husband would leave the dispensation of his bounty, where women are concerned, to his wife. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. 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 had never been so happy to vomit. There was little more here than a sideboard, a chest for the vestments, and a simple wooden chair.
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