Ruth, having decided a course for herself—that of renunciation—and having the strength to keep it, met these advances in precisely the mood they were offered. The theme was a masquerade. " "Nonsense!" cried Wood; "while there's life there's hope. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. Here I am. Suddenly he felt Ruth swing violently away from him, and he wheeled to learn the cause. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. "I can't make you understand; I can't make you see things as I see them. He scooped up Michelle’s unconscious body. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. “These clothes are French, and I’m sure this floppy bow would make a Frenchman of me anyhow. ‘Me, I am tout à fait stupide. And look down, so.
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