Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon. She went to the basement and shed her sodden coat and scarf, tossing them into her favorite modern appliance, the electric dryer. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge.
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