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“And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. “What else was I to do?” For some seconds she stood watching him and both were thinking very quickly. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. “All’s well that ends well,” he said; “and the less one says about things the better. " "I have promised. " Ruth repeated the word, not in the effect of a query, but ruminantly.

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