Be on your guard. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. I suppose I believe in God. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. After he had endured this torture for an hour, at a sign from Wild another hundred weight was added.
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