“Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. You understand. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. Her defence ceased rapidly to be in any sense ladylike, and became vigorous and effective; a strand of black hair that had escaped its hairpins came athwart Ramage’s eyes, and then the knuckles of a small but very hardly clinched fist had thrust itself with extreme effectiveness and painfulness under his jawbone and ear. He often wanted only to drive with her in the car, both of them staring at the scenery in silence for hours. It wasn't worth while to invest imaginatively a man with evil projects simply because he was physically ugly.
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