"I am Owen Wood, at your service. Wasn't the river beautiful under the moonlight?" "We did not leave our cabins. He returned her impressive greeting almost mechanically. In the afternoon he probably loafs in his pajamas. She started forward. And, in fact, all round the problem you don’t know and I don’t see how I could possibly have told you before. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. It had been her home for hundreds of years. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash. But indeed that is not at all a good description of her attitude. “This is all madness,” she declared wearily. And now her mind was so full of the thought that she was in love—in love!—that marvellous state! that I really believe she had some dim idea of talking to him about it.
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