He would refuse to listen and absolve her unshriven. "Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. Now, he must have folks somewhere. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. He turned the water off and handed her a towel.
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