Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. . Brendon and I are great chums,” he went on nervously. Her eyes where glassy and shining. ” Or someone, she thought with disgust. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. Spurlock: 'tis Roundhead, sure enough. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night.
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