" The hint was not lost upon Wood. Though they do, in secret, I believe. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. Where the robber may cheer His spirit with beer, And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! III. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest. Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura.
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