I expect Mr. " So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. She nodded.
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