“Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. He remained listening attentively.
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