” “Do you think that it was wise of you, or kind to come?” she asked quietly. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. “Just remember, I have to make this up to you. “I didn’t know Mr. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. She was quite assured that she would never see him again.
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