’ ‘She’s as clothheaded as you,’ Roding retorted, but he slipped an arm about the lady’s waist and gave her a quick squeeze. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. And this is not France, you understand. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. " "All right. ‘How do you know?’ ‘Exactly,’ pounced Roding bitterly. Very well, I give up. Paul's are his work.
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