Ruth could tell the doctor; she could bare many of her innermost thoughts to that kindly man; but there was an inexplicable reserve before this young man whom she still endued with the melancholy charm of Sydney Carton. He forced her arm back, away, stretching it out to keep the weapon at bay. Romance! The romance of passing faces, of wires that carried voices and words to the far ends of the world, of tremendous mechanisms that propelled ships and trains! And, oh the beautiful books! She swiftly knelt upon the floor and once more gathered the books to her heart. “I have not left this apartment myself. The intensity of the eyes and the defiant tone bewildered the doctor, who found his well-constructed jeremiad without a platform. She, perhaps, displayed herself rather consciously as a fine person unduly limited. "Who's there?" cried Rachel.
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