She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. But I had to know for sure. Not since she had discovered it had Ruth touched or opened the mission Bible; but to-night (the same upon which the wonderful manuscripts started on their long and circuitous voyage to America) she was inexplicably drawn to it. “He tried it. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. He did it, he said, “to distract his mind. “I am much obliged to you,” he said. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. He was a stranger. Burn your palette and your easel. I can't help looking at you frequently.
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