Tell me all that happened, one sister-woman to another. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. ” Or someone, she thought with disgust. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. ” He looked at her intently. Presently he became filled with astonishment over the singular fact that Ruth was eluding him in fancy as well as in reality. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. But if only you will come I do not care.
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