“And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. The poor child! What frightful things she must have seen on that island of hers! The noise of crashing glass caused a diversion; and Ruth turned gratefully toward the sound. “It’s a flabby, loose-willed world we have to face. She held out her arm straight before her, and turned her hand this way and that. Immediately he grasped the fact that there was drama here, probably the old drama of the fugitive.
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