Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. "To me?" gasped Winifred. " Ruth spread out the ruffled skirt, sundrily torn and soiled. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. Yet I shall think of you to-day. Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. ” “Martin, it’s a monumental achievement for any composer.
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