He carried her to the couch and laid her down. He hung for an instant
in doubt whether to go for water or telephone for the doctor. He
decided on the telephone.
He hung up the receiver and went back to Ruth. She stirred and gave a
little moan. He flew upstairs and returned with a pitcher of water.
When he got back Ruth was sitting up. The look of terror was gone from
her face. She smiled at him, a faint, curiously happy smile. He flung
himself on his knees beside her, his arm round her waist, and burst
into a babble of self-reproach.
He cursed himself for being such a brute, such a beast as to let her
stand there, tiring herself to death. She must never do it again. He
was a devil. He ought to have known she could not stand it. He was not
fit to be married. He was not fit to live.
Ruth ruffled his hair.
"Stop abusing my husband," she said. "I'm fond of him. Did you catch
me, Kirk?"
"Yes, thank God. I got to you just in time."
"That's the last thing I remember, wondering if you would. You seemed
such miles and miles away. It was like looking at something in a mist
through the wrong end of a telescope. Oh, Kirk!"
"Yes, honey?"
"It came again, that awful feeling as if something dreadful was going
to happen. And then I felt myself going." She paused. "Kirk, I think I
know now. I understand; and oh, I'm so happy!"
She buried her face on his shoulder, and they stayed there silent, till
there came a ring at the bell.
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