That she was provoked by his interference was obvious. I must apologize, I suppose, for speaking to you, but your appearance certainly indicated that you were in some sort of trouble, and you were becoming—pardon me—an object of comment to the passers-by. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. So I made haste and recovered. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. Tell me exactly what has happened.
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