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His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. There was the motor accident, too. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. " There was a brief, breathless pause. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat. The door to the library burst open. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. That boy," he added, looking at Thames, "has his eye upon us. “Damned Rascal!” he said. She offers me no explanation, permits me absolutely no hope. Annabel, I was lying. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be Capes’ friend.
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