She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. Ennison looked down on him in disgust. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. It was so arranged that Ruth went on duty after breakfast and remained until noon.
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