“Well,” she achieved at last. Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. It’s my choice, Lucy. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. " "Both are dead," observed the knight, gloomily. “I wondered. ” He followed up a line of thought.
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