She refrained. Trenchard glanced at the document. Kneebone's," remarked Austin, rising to fasten the door. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. "Can you pull him through?" was the anxious question. These sisters moved in a grown-up world inaccessible to Ann Veronica’s sympathies, and to a large extent remote from her curiosity.
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