Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. But the wench who tricked me shall bitterly repent it. ” She said. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house. It is easy enough to sing these little chansons in an original way—it requires a very different sort of ability to succeed on the stage. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles.
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