She's my mealticket. " He rose for fear she might touch him again. ” “Why not?” “You see, if I do go home my father objects to the College, and as for typing —” “Don’t go home. She observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. Not since she had discovered it had Ruth touched or opened the mission Bible; but to-night (the same upon which the wonderful manuscripts started on their long and circuitous voyage to America) she was inexplicably drawn to it. Pretty good stuff, some of it. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. He must fight the thought continually, day in and day out.
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