He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. Tears sprang to her eyes. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. It was the crowned queen of mountains in her robes of shining white.
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