A lucky escape. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. ‘I don’t know that I dare. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. God had never answered any of her prayers. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. CHAPTER XXXII. No: I must face it out. "All is prepared. " Mr.
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