No more scuffling. “Indeed,” she said, “I would not. I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. She was honest again. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. But at the beginning of the affray, when he thought every one was too much occupied with his own concerns to remark his absence, he slipped out of the room, not for the purpose of avoiding the engagement (for cowardice was not one of his failings), but because he had another object in view.
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