Mr. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. “How so?” “I should have shared these things with you earlier, my sweet heart. He could not kiss Ruth. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. E. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. Her nurse says she may live some time; but she seems to me to be sinking fast. But seriously ——” “Well seriously?” “Isn’t it your own fault a little? Why do you not tell me your address, and allow me to call upon you.
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