The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. No! That was impossible. 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. Turning, she heaved at the bottom door and slammed it in his face just as he came leaping forward to grab her.
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