“I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. Drummond nodded. 'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. .
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