"Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. Understand me. . " He shifted the pages together, rolled and thrust them under her arm. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. ” “You are foolish,” she declared, with a note of irritability in her tone. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel. "It seems like six long months to me. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery.
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