I should feel that I had been obliged to find some one else to fight my battles for me. "You see?" Ruth said. Spurlock—for that's his real name—were married at high noon. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. Then she went below. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone.
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