Prudence was the substance and Angelina the shadow; for Angelina never offered opinions, she only agreed with those advanced by Prudence. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. Even the chattering monkeys, parrots, and parrakeets departed the fruit groves for the smelly dark of the jungle.
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