Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. "What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. ‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow.
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