Youth! You denied me even that," said Ruth, her glance now flashing to her father. Forthwith he presented his card. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. I shall never go back to him; never, never!" Distressed, embarrassed beyond measure by this unexpected tragic revelation, the doctor puttered about among the bottles on the stand. He trembled violently. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank.
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