But in between these wider phases of comparative confidence were gaps of disconcerting doubt, when the universe was presented as making sinister and threatening faces at her, defying her to defy, preparing a humiliating and shameful overthrow. 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. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. And here she was—in a mess because it had been impossible for her to avoid leaning upon another man. The second look told me I was wrong. At that, the girl jumped up.
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