"Help!—help, Mr. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. But when she spoke her lips quivered, and they came. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed. ‘You are a born rebel, ma’am, and I can see now where she gets it from. She had a nut-brown skin, a swarthy upper lip, a merry black eye, a prominent bust, and a tun-like circumference of waist. On regaining his breath, he began to consider whither chance had led him; and, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he perceived a sombre pile, with a lofty tower and broad roof, immediately in front of him. ‘But then again, possibly not. ” He left off abruptly. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. Presently he became filled with astonishment over the singular fact that Ruth was eluding him in fancy as well as in reality.
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