As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. Cathy appeared in her bathrobe. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose. Earles regarded it approvingly. She was quite assured that she would never see him again. ” “It is for your good—your good only I am thinking,” he declared. "I am innocent. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed.
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