” Hill staggered to his feet and drew a folded paper from his pocket. . I ought to be able to think things out. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Joan told me it was hung somewhere in the house, only I couldn’t remember where after all this time. I’ve got no feminine class feeling. ‘And nnever would you have f-found it. I'll tell you something. I’m a female thing at bottom. ” She roused herself from some dream at the word. 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. There was a strained, eager expression on his face. But pathologically, he is still on the edge. “About two years ago.
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