. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. 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. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. But they climbed more than he had intended because Ann Veronica proved rather a good climber, steadyheaded and plucky, rather daring, but quite willing to be cautious at his command. ‘No need to upset yourself. It is bad policy. " "If he could stand on two feet, I'd break every bone in his worthless body!" McClintock said soothingly: "But that wouldn't nullify the marriage, old boy. Manning, all this sort of thing is very well as sentiment, but does it correspond with the realities? Are women truly such angelic things and men so chivalrous? You men have, I know, meant to make us Queens and Goddesses, but in practice—well, look, for example, at the stream of girls one meets going to work of a morning, round-shouldered, cheap, and underfed! They aren’t queens, and no one is treating them as queens. It seems to me exactly what is wanted. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. "Not a single whooper-upter! Nothing but torment and remorse … and Ruth! Children, put your arms around me.
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