" "Humph!" ejaculated the carpenter. The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. “How shall I put the question? What am I? What have I got to do with myself?. ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. What do you think, Annabel?” “I don’t think they would,” she admitted. She confronted him with his own double-standard. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. The latter appeared to contain several papers, which Jack carefully put by, in the hope that they might turn out of importance in a scheme of vengeance which he meditated against the thief-taker.
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