You will never be able to draw. "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. A few more minutes, and she was safe. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. It's of no use. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. Here would be a woman perfectly unrecognizable, strong, ruthless but just.
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