‘As I have said, it was a quarrel between the vicomte and Monsieur Charvill. She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. ’ ‘Comment?’ she demanded with some heat. He did it, he said, “to distract his mind. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love.
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