Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. ” “Nice clean hardness, anyhow. I have had no one but for you. I would not think so of you, Marthe. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. There was a third lady among the younger set. He had bled everywhere, but she had struck when the opportunity was ripe. She struggled fiercely not to give way. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber.
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