She looked down tassels of his shiny shoes with a scowl. “I think we’ve exhausted this discussion,” she said. He was waiting in the outer hall as she tiptoed in. From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful. Jonathan stepped behind a curtain. ‘So are you. She watched the people and hummed softly to herself. I’ve made up my mind. ” “My dear young lady,” the official said irritably, “this man would not have your name and address in his pocket without an object. If, when he returned, he blew out the light, she would go to bed; but if the light burned on for any length of time, she would go silently to the study curtain to learn if his agony was still upon him. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain.
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