I've destroyed my only chance. Well, this was the side of the world where things like that happened. Teas he contributed to the commissariat of Ann Veronica’s campaign—quite a number of teas. Her usual dignified reserve had availed her nothing. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Then she went back and mixed up the sheets in a search for particular passages. In his desire to be emphatic and to avenge himself for his over-night distresses, he speedily became brutal, more brutal than she had ever known him before.
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