Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. ‘Come, mademoiselle. She opened her eyes. He looked at it eagerly, but made no movement to take it. You women, with your tricks of evasion, you’re a sex of swindlers. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. I’ve got too much work. Then he remembered that she was Anna’s sister. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. The man’s passion was infectious. “I thought you weren’t getting along so well with your mother these days. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection.
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