Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. She was always breaking rules, whispering asides, intimating signals. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. ‘You do not dare look in my clothes. I must tell you all about God’s land, this marvellous virgin country, with its silent forests and dazzling peaks. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. One of the coolies held the paper lantern.
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