She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. ’ But I made sure it was you. There must be something, one feels, in ideas that achieve persistently a successful resurrection. Perhaps she was. Then, as she was in the act of turning reluctantly away, she noticed a thin crack between the door and the frame. "Ruth?" "Hoddy!" she cried. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. He was going to tell me something— and he shut up. "I've lost my wager. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush.
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