Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. They do a good job, huh?” He smiled at her. "Time to dress for dinner," said Ruth from behind the curtain. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. He stood away from her. There was a fourth story; but he never told either Ruth or McClintock about this.
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