“You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. “Young lady! Are you sure you’re of legal age to be smoking those cigarettes?” “No, I’m not of legal age. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's.
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