Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. . She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. If only this man had been her father! The world would have meant nothing; the island would have been wide enough. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs.
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