'" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. ’ ‘But it was not your fault,’ protested Gosse, shocked. A man, then, rushed up the entry, and, seizing the unlucky carpenter by the collar, presented a drawn sword to his throat. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. That boy—blind as a bat! Why, he hadn't seen the Woman until to-night! From the first chord of the Grieg concerto to the finale of the Chopin ballade, Ruth had sat tensely on the edge of her chair. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. “Please go and see that—nothing happens,” she pleaded. ” “I am afraid,” she said, preceding him down the narrow stairs, “that I am going to be too busy to have much time for gadding about.
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