I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. " "I will be there," answered Trenchard, gloomily. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot.
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