He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. Without betraying the slightest confusion, or making a single remark, he quietly resumed his seat. "Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. Also she had tried him as a dragoman and as a gendarme, which seemed the most suitable of all to his severely handsome, immobile profile. Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk.
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