"Ay, murder him, if you like the term," returned Wild. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. She found herself struggling with a storm of tears. ” “And you?” “Rather!” “I wonder why?” “There’s no why. “What can you do?” she asked. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. The word handsome was a little beyond her grasp. . “DEAR MR. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration.
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