" "A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,—remember that," rejoined Wood. ” She said wistfully. " "There isn't an angel in heaven, Ruth, purer or sweeter than you are. "Enough!" rejoined Wild; "he shall not return. He would be off her case just as soon as his fever for her broke and he found a lover, and she imagined he must have plenty of girls from ritzy families lining up to choose from. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six.
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